


Software Instability

by Enigmatic_Stardust



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Android Hank Anderson, Canon-Typical Violence, Detroit Become Human reverse au, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Found Family, Fowler's Hank's handler, Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Human Amanda, Human Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Not Beta Read, POV Connor (Detroit: Become Human), POV Hank Anderson, Spoilers, because even as a human connor needs help with that, both boys are going to learn what emotions are, ironically connor is still, major spoilers if you haven't finished the game, more of an android than hank, please excuse typos, reverse au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-07-15 01:13:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 27,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16052402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enigmatic_Stardust/pseuds/Enigmatic_Stardust
Summary: Hank, aka RK800, has been assigned to assist the DPD's Lieutenant Connor Anderson after CyberLife gets word of the detective's open cases on anomalous android behavior. The Lieutenant, however, is less than thrilled with the idea of having a partner, especially an android partner. The two decide to reluctantly work together though because, in the end, solving the case is their primary objective.A good ol' reverse AU fic.





	1. Algorithms

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Fae from the r/fanfiction discord for helping me figure out some of the cogs in the universe. Bouncing ideas with you really helped!
> 
> The first few chapters will follow the canon timeline (I'm guessing) but they're going to branch off pretty quickly because of the changes in the au.
> 
> The fic will bounce between Connor and Hank's POV (mostly Connor's though if I had to guess). Any switch will be indicated by a line.

The objective should have been a simple one: find Lieutenant Connor Anderson. RK 800, aka Hank, didn’t appear to be outwardly frustrated, despite his growing agitation at the Lieutenant’s disappearance. Captain Amanda Stern had insinuated that the Lieutenant was easy enough to find once his current fixation was discovered. At the moment he was working on a case involving a deviant who’d held a little girl hostage, a case that Hank was all too familiar with. He hoped to use that as the bait once he found the Lieutenant.

Surprisingly, the Lieutenant hadn’t been working late at the DPD as he’d previously suspected. Undeterred, Hank had checked the Lieutenant’s apartment next but had found it to be empty as well. Evidence suggested that he wouldn’t be at a bar, which meant that he’d probably gone off the grid for a while to focus on the case. According to Captain Amanda Stern, that was a habit of his. Sometimes he needed a place alone to think away from the DPD and other detectives. When prompted, the Captain suggested a few places he liked to go when he was dealing with a particularly messy case.

“He likes parks,” she’d said while watering a bonsai rose tree on her desk, “He may have taken his dog there to work.”

Hank admired the bonsai as he considered his next question. It was blooming with bright red roses that perched delicately on top of the limbs. Based on a few other plants in the room under the Captain’s care, Hank suspected that it was her handy work that kept it so vibrant and tame.

“Is it normal for him to continue working at this hour?”

“Certainly. He’s like a machine,” she gave Hank a once over before continuing, “He goes from one case to the next without much of a pause in between.”

Hank scanned a photo on her desk while she spoke. It showed a boy, probably about fifteen or sixteen at the time according to his analysis, standing awkwardly next to the Captain and another man, although that part of the photo was too damaged to make out his face. They were standing in a garden, appearing to have just come from a graduation ceremony.

 

 

> **ANDERSON, CONNOR**
> 
> Born 08/15/2013 // Police Lieutenant
> 
> Criminal record: None
> 
>  
> 
> **STERN, AMANDA**
> 
> Born 05/14/1978 // Police Captain
> 
> Criminal record: None

 

So the Lieutenant was presumably a long time friend of the Captain’s—perhaps she’d been a mentor given the age gap? Family? The photo suggested an early graduation as well, given the age of the lieutenant in the picture. The sigil on the diploma was from a local high school. Hank filed the information away for later.

“We should be good partners then,” Hank said evenly, “I’m designed to work seamlessly with numerous work styles. It sounds like Lieutenant Anderson has a strong work ethic which will help our proceedings.”

“Oh I wouldn’t say that it’ll be smooth. Connor is less than fond of androids. Most of the department is.”

Hank frowned slightly but reaffirmed his statement, “I’m certain that he’ll be willing to work with me, if only for the good of the investigation.”

The Captain smiled, “If you manage to accomplish that, even I would be impressed. He likes working alone. Cliché, I know, but it’s suited him well over the years even if the rest of the department dislikes him for it.”

“I can convince him. If you have any other relevant information about him though, I would appreciate it so I can better understand him.”

“His desk is over there in the corner. Feel free to go examine it.”

The desk was meticulously organized other than the large stash of empty coffee cups next to the computer. Everything was carefully labeled and there was very little personalization. Other desks sported mementos, photos, or children’s drawings. Lieutenant Anderson’s desk held none of that. There were pinned notes regarding current cases and a diagram connecting recent cases involving androids drawn out neatly on a large piece of paper, taped to one of the walls of his cubical. There was a single quarter framed and sitting beside his computer terminal but otherwise, Hank came up blank in regards to personal interests. He did, however, learn a few important things that he hoped would help him. The Lieutenant was a perfectionist. He didn’t spend a lot of time at home and based on his coffee consumption (a test revealed most of the coffee was less than a day old) he didn’t sleep nearly enough. The coin confused him, but he could draw a few potential conclusions from it:

A: The Lieutenant collected coins—unlikely since this was the only coin and this particular quarter wasn’t that rare.

B: The coin had belonged to someone important to the Lieutenant—possible, although he would need to learn more about the Lieutenant’s history to confirm.

C: The coin was given as a prize—unlikely, the Lieutenant didn’t have any other rewards or monuments to his recognition. If that were the case, there would likely be certificates, medals, or diplomas on the desk as well.

D: The coin was a souvenir for a particular moment that the Lieutenant wanted to be constantly reminded of since it was always in his field of vision while working—perhaps it was related to his becoming an officer?

Hank needed more information before he could draw a definitive conclusion. Still, based on the desk, Hank didn’t see why the Lieutenant wouldn’t want to work with him. It seemed like they would be a good match since both of them wanted to complete their current objective without delay.

Three hours later, however, Hank was starting to understand Captain Amanda Stern’s reservations about him working with the Lieutenant, but he was determined, especially after he received a call about a homicide potentially involving an android. Time was of the essence now.

 

Hank found Lieutenant Connor Anderson seated out on the park bench at 11:21:05 PM. He was a hunched figure staring out at the lights dancing across the lake. He didn’t appear to notice the heavy rain, let alone the android heading towards him. His clothes didn’t do much to block out the cold or rain and his hair was plastered to his head. He had a waterproof tablet out on his knee and a now very cold coffee in his hand, which he absently sipped as Hank stopped in front of him, scanning him to confirm his identity before asking as a more human form of greeting,

“Lieutenant Anderson?”

The Lieutenant hummed a note of acknowledgment, tapping his finger lightly on the tablet screen.

“My name is Hank. I’m the android sent by CyberLife.”

Again, another hum of acknowledgment, although now he wasn’t looking at Hank or the lake, but rather at the tablet, his eyes tracking the text as he scrolled through the documents without pause. Hank got the impression he wasn’t just pretending to read it either, despite the speed he went.

“I’ve been assigned to help you with your investigation into deviants. You would have received a notice about it earlier this morning.”

That finally got a slight reaction from him. He looked up briefly, meeting Hank’s eyes. Hank saw his gaze run from the LED on the side of his head to the model number on his jacket.

“I’m working on it. I don’t need any assistance, especially not from an android. CyberLife sending in an android to investigate androids? It seems a little redundant and likely to lead to failure.”

He had a concise, indifferent way of speaking. His voice wasn’t unpleasant and his expression was rather unassuming, despite his words. Hank pressed on, seeing as he wasn’t openly hostile yet.

“I’m specially designed to assist with this particular investigation as well as future investigations.”

“Not interested.”

He went back to his tablet, completely tuning Hank out. The probability of success was going down. How was that? He was designed to perfectly integrate and to work with any personality. He had to adapt. Hank considered what the Captain had told him and decided on a direction.

“There’s a new case. A homicide involving an android.”

That at least made the Lieutenant pause his scrolling again.

“I haven’t received a call.”

“Your phone is off. I was informed on my way to find you and pass on the information.”

The Lieutenant considered, taking out his phone as he did. Hank saw a small hint of irritation in the young Lieutenant’s eyes as he realized that his phone’s battery was dead. He wondered just how long the Lieutenant had been out for him not to notice that his phone was dead.

Hank could see him weighing his options. Finally, he took a long swig of his coffee (which sounded mostly empty) and got to his feet. He brushed his wet hair out of his face, although it didn’t do much to help Hank extrapolate on his emotions. The Lieutenant’s expression was skillfully, yet effortlessly blank.

“I’ll drive.”

There was no invitation, yet Hank took his lack of instruction to leave as encouragement to follow. It was a start, at least. Hank could work with this.

 

The Lieutenant’s car was a practical model, if somewhat dated. One of the first things Hank noticed was how he buckled his seatbelt and waited pointedly for Hank to do the same before he started the car.

“Send the address to the GPS.”

Hank obliged and asked, “Do you want me to give you the details from the call?”

There was hesitation. “Proceed.”

“The victim’s name is Carlos Ortiz. He was found approximately an hour ago by his landlord who went to inquire about his rent since he was late. While this wasn’t unusual, it had been three months since he’d last paid so the landlord saw that as reason enough to check on him.”

“Why did the landlord choose to visit at night?”

“I’m not sure, although I agree that it’s odd. It may be worth interviewing him about.”

“No. The android is the main suspect I’m assuming since you were instructed to join me. I take it that it’s not at the scene?”

“Correct. It should be noted that it doesn’t appear like there was a forced entry. None of the locks were disturbed or damaged. There also weren’t any footprints exiting the property other than the landlord’s.”

“Understood.”

Lieutenant Anderson was a cautious driver. Hank noted that he often put on his turn signal far earlier than he had to and he had a habit of checking his mirrors more often than was necessary.

“If you’re concerned about driving because of the weather, I can drive us to the crime scene.”

“No!” The word came out as a quick snap before Lieutenant Anderson frowned, “What do we know about the victim?”

“He was a loner. He has a criminal record, but it’s minor.”

Lieutenant Anderson remained quiet for the rest of the drive, although Hank noticed a few concerning things from a scan that he decided would be wise to bring up once their investigation of the crime scene was completed. The problems weren’t immediately pressing, although Hank wanted them resolved in order to ensure that the two were as productive as possible during their investigation.

 

* * *

 

Connor wanted to ignore the android sitting in his passenger seat. The model was unique—he was well versed in most android model appearances and he’d certainly never seen one like this before. He wouldn’t have even thought it was an android if not for the circling blue LED on its temple. The android, Hank it had called itself, looked like a human in his early fifties and was dressed smartly rather than in the usual CyberLife white and grey getup. It had a stock of grey hair and a beard, which gave it far too much of a trustworthy, if somewhat grizzled appearance. Connor wondered why CyberLife had designed it to look older. Normally androids were made to look eternally youthful, somewhere in their early twenties to mid-thirties. It was one of the reasons some people felt uncomfortable around them. Sure, they had been designed with small facial flaws to make them appear more natural, but there was still something about the knowledge that they never aged that set people on edge. Connor was not among that crowd. His opinion on androids stemmed from something else entirely.

The android seemed content to wait for Connor’s orders, which suited him just fine. He’d noticed the way it studied him and figured out the best approach to get his cooperation. It annoyed him, but he played along nevertheless because in the end, the thing was right: he was a Lieutenant willing to do what he had to in order to solve a case, even if it meant working with a plastic partner for a time.

As they pulled up to the crime scene, Connor felt his mood darken at the sight of news vans. Of course, the media was here. He wondered which nosy neighbor had called them in.

“What are your functions?” Connor turned to the android after he parked. “You were sent to assist for a reason. I take it you’re designed to work with investigations?”

“Correct. I’m an RK 800, a prototype detective designed to help with crime scene investigation as well as casework within the police department. I’m specially equipped to do analysis in the field and to assist with the investigation as needed.”

Connor processed this information and decided that he’d handle it as if he’d been stuck with any other new, eager detective.

“When we get inside your job is to search the crime scene for anything out of the ordinary that relates to the android. Do not handle the evidence if you can help it. While I understand androids don’t have fingerprints or oils like human hands, you can still disrupt the crime scene if you’re not careful.”

“Understood. I’ll come to you with anything that I find.”

Connor nodded and got out of the car. The rain immediately splattered his already soaked through leather jacket and t-shirt. He glanced up at the sky for a moment, wondering when it would finally snow. It was getting close to that time after all.

Passing by other cars, he took note of the different license plates and which other officers he’d be working with. Ben Collins was on the scene. Connor groaned inwardly. He wasn’t fond of dealing with Ben. While the man was good at organizing crime scenes and was probably one of the most experienced members on the force, Connor usually got the sense that the man didn’t respect him. Then again, most of the force didn’t. He was the upstart officer who’d rushed through the ranks, bypassing ambitious officers who’d been working for ten or more years to reach Lieutenant. While Ben wasn’t one of those officers, he still often treated Connor more like a green kid fresh out to the field rather than the experienced detective that he was.

“Anderson!” Ben called, noticing Connor as he made his way through the swarm of media, “Glad you could make it. Phone died again? You really should get one of those portable charging packs.”

“If I did that I’d never stop working,” Connor commented, “I got the details on the way here. Carlos Ortiz, known for petty crimes but nothing really noteworthy.”

Ben glanced over Connor’s shoulder with a wide grin, “You finally ran out of humans who’d work with you at the DPD so you got yourself an android, huh?”

“It’s been sent by CyberLife to assist with my investigation into abnormal android behavior,” Connor said stiffly, “Can we continue with the investigation?”

“Of course. Follow me.”

Ben led Connor and Hank into the house. Connor immediately gagged, feeling his stomach roll from the smell. He pulled his shirt up slightly to cover his nose and mouth, but it barely did anything to dampen the stench. The body was up against a wall. Connor had seen his fair share of corpses; some far more familiar than this one, but this was definitely one of the fouler ones.

“Shit! How long has he been sitting here?”

“Approximately three weeks,” Hank stated before walking past Connor and kneeling down in front of the body. “Twenty-eight stab wounds. This seems pretty personal.”

“No shit.” Connor took a mask that another investigator offered him and lowered his shirt so he could look around more freely. “Tell me something I can’t figure out myself, Hank.”

The android seemed to take that as a personal challenge. It stood up with a nod and what may have been a smirk before it started to go around the room, examining various points. Most of the time, Connor could follow the android’s logic (although it seemed like both of them were lost when it came to the strange statuette they found in the bathroom). However, there were a few points where he felt lost, particularly when the android knelt down to touch a bit of flaky, dried blood, which it then brought up to its mouth.

“Don’t you even—ah what the hell? That’s disgusting.”

“I’m sampling the blood to ensure there wasn’t another human involved in the homicide.”

“So when you said analysis earlier, you meant literal analysis.”

“Yes,” it said, a mischievous glint coming into its eyes, “The blood belonged to the victim and from what I’ve gathered, it all started in the kitchen after the victim attacked his android with the bat over there.”

“You gathered that how?”

“The bat is dented, but it doesn’t have human blood on it. There are however splatters of blue blood around and on the bat itself.”

“I didn’t see any blue blood. It would have evaporated by now, correct?”

Hank nodded, “Yeah, but I can still see it.”

“Noted. So he attacked the android and then the android grabbed the knife and fought back?”

“Based on my reconstruction, that seems to be the case.”

“So now the question becomes where did the android go?”

Hank frowned to himself before wandering off again. Connor followed, watching Hank pause under a spot in the hallway. It then went to the kitchen and picked up the upended chair, bringing it back to the spot. Connor’s eyes widened, understanding dawning. _The reason the locks weren’t broken and there weren’t any footprints is because the android is still here!_

Connor waited in the hallway, watching the android climb up into the attic. He hesitated, then with a grumble followed up after the android, taking out his gun. If the other android was up there, Hank wouldn’t have any way to defend itself and the last thing Connor needed as extra paperwork and a CyberLife lawsuit for damaged equipment.

The attic was still. Dust particles trickled through the air as the two proceeded, pushing past old tarps and sheets that Connor suspected had been left by a previous owner. Something stirred at the end of the attic. Hank pushed forward, cautious, but resolute. An android—an HK400—suddenly rushed out, his eyes wide with terror as he saw Hank and Connor. He didn’t attack though. Connor remained vigilant, prepared to shoot should the android became violent.

“I was just…defending myself,” the android said, its brows knitting together, “I had to. He was going to kill me.”

“You’re under arrest for the murder of Carlos Ortiz,” Connor said, stepping forward, “I suggest coming with us quietly.”

Hank looked from Connor to the android and Connor noticed Hank’s LED briefly spiked yellow before returning to blue. Hank took the other android and led it back through the attic to be taken in for questioning. Whatever had been bothering the RK800, it didn’t say.


	2. AbEnd

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor tries to get some sleep. Hank searches for the lieutenant (again) and decides to take a stand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few more of the universe's alternative lore were hinted at in this chapter...I'll be revealing more next chapter.  
> The story's already starting to change from the original too since, while I switched the roles, I didn't change the personalities too much. Hank's a bit tight right now but the more he interacts with Connor, the more he'll start to have a personality that's similar to the canon.
> 
> As a warning, this chapter does contain the use of sleep medication used in a somewhat abusive way. I know medications and drugs can be a touchy subject so I just wanted to give a fair warning.

Connor shut the door to his apartment with a quiet click. He let out a heavy sigh before dropping his keys on the counter and heading over to the couch where he promptly flopped down face first. He kicked his shoes off with some effort. He was still soaking wet from his time out at the park, but he didn’t have the will to go to the shower to warm and change.

They’d assigned him a fucking android as a partner—an android _designed to replace him_. Connor wasn’t dumb. He knew that CyberLife wanted to “help” in all areas of life to give more time for leisure, regardless of the jobs it cut or the fact that some people actually enjoyed their jobs. He’d watched Chloe Kamski’s interview back in 2024 with fascination—back before he’d realized the long-term ramifications of android production. Connor would give it six months before more RK800 models were assigned to police departments. He’d seen how efficient it had been. Hank had gotten a confession from the android in less than ten minutes. Connor had been ineffective. Connor had failed.

He sat up slowly, yanking off his jacket and tossing it across the room where it landed in front of the bathroom door. He was tugging off his socks when he heard a soft whine and the gentle clack of claws against linoleum.

“Hey, Jay boy…I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

An old Saint Bernard came lumbering over to him, licking his face.

“I know, I know, I’m late. I’m sorry. Did the neighbor feed you for me?”

Connor peaked around the kitchen counter towards the front door and saw that the dog food was tipped over. He sighed, shaking his head and scratching Jay’s head.

“You fed yourself a midnight snack, huh? Alright, you deserve that, but you get _no treat_ now.”

Connor had to get up and turn away to avoid the devastated eyes that met him at the emphasized words ‘no treat’. He went to the dresser, which was in the living room like almost everything else, and took out a pair of sweatpants and a shirt. He stripped off the rest of his wet clothes and tossed them beside the bathroom door.

Dressed, he moved to the kitchen and started the kettle. He picked up a Cup Noodles from the shelf, opened it, and poured in the hot water. While waiting for the noodles to soften, he eyed the pill bottle on the counter.

They’d assigned an android to him. Him! Why not Gavin or one of the newer officers? He was efficient. He was effective. He didn’t need a partner, especially not some walking plastic AI. Connor got the feeling that Amanda was behind it. The captain was always trying to do things “for his own good”. He’d appreciated it when he was younger, but she was his superior office now. He didn’t need her to coddle him.

Connor grabbed the pill bottle off the counter and twisted the cap, taking out two of the blue and red capsules. He went to the fridge and took out a soda, popping the cap and taking a swig before putting the pills into his mouth, swallowing. He shuddered slightly from it, feeling them stick in his throat. The ramen would help that. He took a fork from the drawer and picked up the now hot ramen, going to sit back down on the couch. Jay had already climbed up during his absence, taking up half the space. Connor squished in beside him, turned on the TV, and started on his ramen.

“—the DPD has confirmed an altercation happened at the Manfred residence but refuses to give further details—“

He zoned out for a bit, his gaze drifting over to the wall. When had that spot gotten there? He didn’t remember seeing it there when he moved in. Had Jay jumped up when he was barking? Connor set his ramen down on the coffee table and curled up, resting his head on Jay’s back. The dog gave a small tail wag of acknowledgment.

“—yes, Tom and we’ve just received word that there were shots fired, but there were no casualties. An android, however, was removed from the premises. The model is unknown but there’s speculation that this is the mysterious prototype android that was given to Mr. Carl Mandred as a gift from his close friend Chloe Kamski. Some are speculating that there was a break in and that the android intervened, but there’s no confirmation as of yet. Now the details of this are unknown but we’ll continue to report android as more information regarding this mysterious android comes in. Again though, we can confirm that there were no casualties. Now Tom, this isn’t the first case in recent months involving a rogue android. Back in August, there was a case with one taking a little girl hostage. CyberLife is urging all customers to report deviant behavior to CyberLife. What do you make of these new developments—“

Connor wouldn’t be replaced. He wouldn’t fail—he’d been trying to find the link between all of the android cases. He knew there had to be a common factor between them; something that a cop and not some technician or programmer would detect. The case and interrogation from earlier that night continued to nag at him like he was missing something. He replayed everything over and over in his mind, reciting each key detail in order before shuffling them, playing them backward, considering each element. The clock on the cable box ticked away. He suddenly bolted upright (startling Jay) and ran over to the board on the wall behind his front door. He popped open a dry erase marker and started writing.

 

* * *

 

Hank frowned down at the lieutenant’s desk once again. Even after meeting the lieutenant, he still didn’t have enough data to draw conclusions about some of the carefully chosen decorations on his desk. The coin remained a mystery along with the lack of personalization. The lieutenant’s notes and diagrams made more sense though. It appeared that he was actively searching for a connection between all of the androids cases and had been long before CyberLife had gotten involved. His earliest note when back to February of that year although he had a few pins with question marks that were dated to February and October 2036. Hank studied the notes, making his own connections although ultimately, he fell flat in the same areas as the lieutenant.

Hank had to admit; he was impressed with the young lieutenant. He had an analytical mind that surprised the android. He seemed to catch onto connections and threads that others would dismiss. For all of the negative things Hank had heard about Lieutenant Anderson, he seemed like he would be a good partner.

The interrogation the previous night had gone well—better than he could have predicted. Not only had he extracted a confession from Carlos Ortiz’s android but he’d also gathered valuable information regarding the state of the deviant’s software. Better still, he’d gained some approval from the lieutenant if his reaction after the interrogation was anything to go by. There were some aspects of the night that had troubled him, but he thought that it was a good sign that the lieutenant had moved to defend him from another officer after he’d insisted on protecting Carlos Ortiz’s android (strictly for the purpose of his mission of course—they needed the android to be functional for tests and stressing it to the point of self-destructing would be counterproductive).

If he had improved his standing with the lieutenant though, why wasn’t he here yet? It was almost 10:00 AM and from what Hank had learned from Captain Stern, the lieutenant wasn’t the sort of person to skip work after a long night. He’d tried calling multiple times, but like the previous night, the lieutenant’s phone instantly went to voicemail. Hank suspected that he’d either not charged his phone enough or never tried to charge it to begin with. He couldn’t work without the lieutenant, which meant that he would have to find him to proceed. It should have been a simple objective.

Hank scanned the office and went to another detective over by the small office kitchenette. The detective, Gavin Reed, was busy talking to another officer, but he immediately stopped and grinned at Hank as he came over.

“Hello Detective Reed,” Hank began in what was programmed as a positive, friendly tone, “I was wondering if it’s normal for Lieutenant Anderson to be late? I was informed that he’s usually a punctual employee.”

“Heh, the kid’s got himself a plastic friend now. The captain must be desperate.” His sardonic smile widened, “I’ve never seen an android like you before. What model are you?”

Hank frowned, “I’m sorry, I should have introduced myself. My name is Hank. I’m an RK800, which is a prototype—“

“Oh, that’s rich! A prototype detective!” His tone shifted. “Hey, android, go get me a coffee.”

Hank considered the best way to proceed and ultimately decided to state, “I only take orders from Lieutenant Anderson.”

It wasn’t a lie (something that he was capable of, unlike other android models). He had been assigned to the lieutenant and his objective was to solve the case of the deviants, not to serve coffee like a common household model.

“Oh…oh…so that’s why you’re looking for him, right?”

Hank was about to nod, but before he could Gavin rounded up and punched him hard in the gut. The attack surprised him, jarring his system, but it wasn’t the worst thing that had happened to him according to his memory. He doubled over nevertheless, opting to allow Gavin the satisfaction of briefly besting him.

“You’re designed to serve. I say get me a coffee, you get me a coffee. As for trying to find the kid? Good luck. He probably ditched you like his other partners or passed out somewhere.”

He flicked Hank’s LED before leaving. Hank straightened slowly, unsure what to do now. Had Gavin been serious with his suggestion that the lieutenant had passed out somewhere? If so, why hadn’t he been concerned? Hank didn’t want to ask another officer for help or confirmation and receive a similar reaction. He filtered through his options. He didn’t have enough information to judge the rate of success for most of them. Indecision caused him to hesitate, waiting in the kitchenette.

“I see you’re making friends already.”

Captain Amanda Stern walked over to the coffee machine, popped in a k-cup, and sat her mug on the stand. She smiled in a monotone sort of way—a gesture that was meant to fill space and invite someone in, but was strictly set there for business and not due to any actual pleasure.

“It was a simple misunderstanding of orders,” Hank explained, “Detective Reed was misinformed of my purpose here.”

“Is that so?” Captain Stern studied him for a moment. “I seem to recall your purpose here is to be assisting with the recent surge in android-related cases. You were assigned to Lieutenant Anderson, but I haven’t seen him yet this morning. Am I right to assume he hasn’t shown up to work yet?”

“That’s correct. Is this typical behavior or should I be concerned, captain? Detective Reed suggested he may have fainted somewhere and my scans yesterday did suggest that his systems are on overload.”

“If I had to guess, he finally crashed as the detective suggested. I told you last night that he has an unfortunate habit of working like a machine.”

“Should I go and check on him then to make sure that he’s alright?”

“He’ll be fine. Give it a half hour and I’m sure he’ll drag himself in. I would suggest having a coffee ready for him when he arrives. Unlike Detective Reed, he would actually appreciate the gesture. If he doesn’t show up by then, then yes, go to check on him. He keeps a key up on the crown molding on top of his door.”

Captain Stern picked up her coffee, taking a cautious sip despite the steam pouring off of it.

“I expect results, Hank,” the captain said as she turned to leave the room, “I’m just as invested as CyberLife in your success. Oh and, don’t worry about being too cautious with him. Sometimes he needs a firm hand to guide him.”

Hank watched her leave before making a coffee as suggested and heading back to Lieutenant Anderson’s desk. He sat down at the desk across from it, waiting. 10:00 AM came and went with no sign of the lieutenant. After another twenty minutes, Hank opted to go find the lieutenant himself. He was just getting to his feet when the doors slid open and a bedraggled Lieutenant Anderson walked in.

His hair, although still parted in an attempt at being kempt, stuck out at odd angles and gave the sense of being only brushed by his fingers rather than with a comb. He wore a pair of jeans and a black band shirt with a faded Knights of the Black Death logo emblazed on it. He was wearing the same leather jacket from the night before and Hank could tell that it was still wet. There were dark circles under his eyes and the side of his right hand was covered in what he saw was dry erase marker rub off. Upon closer inspection, he saw his left hand bore the same residue as if he’d used it as an eraser.

The lieutenant walked past Hank without a word, heading towards the office’s kitchenette.

“There’s already a coffee waiting on your desk, lieutenant. I can assure you that it is still warm.”

That made him pause. Lieutenant Anderson turned, frowning at Hank before his gaze fell on the coffee that had been set out for him.

“I’ll probably need a double,” he said simply.

He went to the desk nevertheless though and picked up the cup, taking a long drink of the still scalding liquid. He was about to take another drink when he nodded to Hank.

“There’s a desk there. Use that.”

Hank obeyed, taking a seat across from the lieutenant. There was silence for a few minutes while the lieutenant got his bearings, finishing his coffee and going for a second one. It was only after he got halfway through that one that he spoke.

“Last night’s interrogation. What are your thoughts?”

“On?”

“The android’s behavior,” the lieutenant prompted, “The news and CyberLife are referring to these androids as deviants, correct? Does that seem like a valid assessment?”

“To be deviant is to depart from the usual or accepted standards, so it seems fitting.”

“You agree that they’re deviating from their programming then?”

“That seems to be the entire point of my assignment and yours.” Hank wasn’t quite sure what the lieutenant was trying to get at, but he let him go on.

“How was the android last night different from other androids?”

“He disobeyed his programming and attacked a human. Whether it was because of a glitch or even a virus though, I’m not sure.”

The lieutenant leaned forward, his eyes narrowing, “But why did he disobey?”

“He was scared.” Hank nodded slowly, understanding, “You think that’s the connection?”

“Fear is the event that triggers it—has to be.”

“Androids don’t feel fear though…but deviants do…”

“It’s an irrational emotion so imagine how that’s going haywire in their program!”

The lieutenant seemed to light up in a way that Hank hadn’t yet observed. He spoke with his hands and would gesture every so often at the board as he went through various cases, voices his speculation on the triggers for each in relation to the case files.

“But if that’s the case,” Hank said, “Then we have a problem. If a flaw in their programming is making this ‘fear’ component trigger deviant behavior then it could happen to any android until CyberLife figures out how to patch it out.”

“It’s just a theory for now,” the lieutenant said in a tone of agreement, “I need more evidence, more recent accounts and preferably an android in working condition suffering from this anomaly.”

“I can assist with that.”

The lieutenant’s light seemed to go out. He shook his head, looking away to his computer terminal in a dismissive manner.

“I can handle this. I’ll send CyberLife my reports assuming that there’s no criminal investigation into them for causing this epidemic.”

“My orders are to assist you and the DPD with this investigation.”

“I don’t need help. I’ve handled this on my own and like hell am I going to let some AI program steal my case out from under me and take the credit. Now leave.“

Hank flicked through his options and then without warning, grabbed onto the lieutenant’s jacket and lifted him up, shoving him into the cubical wall.

“I’ve been assigned this mission, detective. I didn’t come here to beg for your approval to assist with the case. I’ve been ordered the same as you and I will complete my mission as instructed. You can decide to work with me or not but in the end, you will be taken off of the case if you do not meet the expectations of Captain Stern or CyberLife.”

The lieutenant stared at him, his eyes widening in surprise. He remained tense beneath Hank’s grasp and he didn’t relax even after Hank let him go.

One of the other officers came over carrying a tablet. He looked awkwardly between the lieutenant and Hank before passing it over to the lieutenant.

“Another android attack. Apparently, this guy’s housekeeper allegedly attacked him without reason…” he glanced at Hank before continuing, “It’s been assigned to you two. A tip came in a few minutes ago about the potential location.”

“Fine,” the lieutenant snapped, taking the tablet and flipping through the information, “We’ll be on site in ten. Hank, download the relevant data and let’s go. Grab me another coffee too for the road.”

Hank did as he was instructed.


	3. Event-Driven Programming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor and Hank follow a lead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Major spoilers about Alice if you haven't finished the game yet.
> 
> 10/12 Edit: Wow. I had a lot of typoes in this chapter. Sorry about that guys. I went back and fixed it.

It wasn’t uncommon to find abandoned buildings in the middle of the shining, tech-savvy city of Detroit. While some sections of the city boasted bright glowing billboards of progress and high-rises, there were also large pockets of poverty and sections that seemed to have been left in the past. Rotting houses, abandoned hovels, and left behind factories from a bygone era still dotted the city. It was a sight that Connor was all too used to. He’d grown up in the city and it had left its mark on him. It lingered in his blood and left physical scars. He’d never thought about leaving though.

Connor frowned at the dilapidated building before him and glanced over at the android Hank, who was currently kneeling by the pulled up fence. The drive from the DPD had been tense. He’d been quiet the entire time and the android hadn’t tried to break the silence, not even to apologize for its actions. Connor had every right to be upset with the android. Hell, he should have dismissed it right on the spot and reported the incident to CyberLife. He didn’t though. Hell, he brought the damn thing along with him, this time to follow up on the lead Chris had given him. Deep down, Connor knew that the android had had a point. Connor would never do something to jeopardize his mission, even if it meant biting his tongue and working with an android.

The android ran his fingers along the fence before looking up, “There’s blue blood here. It’s not a lot, but I think it’s worth checking the house.”

“You think the runaway android is in here?” Connor asked, trying to peer through one of the boarded up windows.

Hank nodded, “If fear forced it to run this far and it had nowhere else to go—no resources like money or a change of clothes—then yes. I think it could have decided to wait out the night inside.”

“But why not keep running? Sure the bus line ended, but it didn’t have to stop. Androids don’t need food or water. As long as it wasn’t damaged, there was nothing to hold it back.”

“It was cold last night,” Hank commented, “It may have taken shelter to avoid trouble and it may have wanted to gather its thoughts. Unlike Ortiz’s android, this one had enough distance to stop and think.”

“And maybe it found help,” Connor noted, pointing to some footprints in the drying mud near the back door.

“Based on the shoe size, those could belong to an android.”

“Hank, go ahead in first.”

Connor was pleased to note that he’d surprised the android with his order. Its LED briefly flickered yellow in confusion before returning to a steady blue.

“Of course, Lieutenant. You don’t want to startle it or scare it off, right? Leave it to me.”

Connor watched Hank march off towards the front of the abandoned house, determination in every step. If he hadn’t known any better, he could have sworn that mischievous glint was back in its eyes. It made Connor pause, a memory jolting through him. It was so familiar; so similar to his brother’s. That was ridiculous though. No matter how advanced the RK models were everything about them was simply a simulation.

He waited by the front door, listening to the conversation inside. A yell startled him in to action, but before he could run in, an android matching the description of the one reported missing by Todd Williams burst out, nearly knocking him over. The android, an AX400 (Markus he assumed—as reported by Williams) wasn’t alone though. A small child ran behind it.

Connor didn’t hesitate. He immediately started to pursue, pushing past other officers. He shouted back to Hank to catch up (although he didn’t care whether the android followed or not) and pressed on, hopping the fence and bolting down the block. The AX400 and child were surprisingly nimble, dodging past the people on the sidewalk and turning down an alleyway to no doubt try to lose him. They almost succeeded. While people were eager to move out of the way of what appeared to be a father and son, they were less eager to move for him. He had to sidestep around numerous people (receiving shouts of annoyance) and at one point was almost knocked down by someone stepping out of a shop.

“They went that way!” an officer shouted as he reached the corner.

Connor turned and ran down the alley just in time to catch them clambering over the fence. He rushed it, just barely missing grabbing the AX400 as it jumped over. There was a moment where he stared back into the wide, green eyes of the android. It glared back at Connor with a look that almost made him step back. The determination behind its gaze was too real. It held onto the hand of the child, standing protectively in front of it almost like it was the father or older brother. Connor shoved that thread of thought down. The child behind it was oddly familiar and Connor realized with a shock that it wasn’t human either. It was a YK500 model.

“Lieutenant!”

It took the child’s— _no, other android’s_ —hand and turned, running down towards the highway below.

“That’s insane!” Hank swore, shaking its head, “It has to know it can’t make it across—wait what are you doing?!”

Connor started to climb the fence. “I’m going after them!”

“You’ll get yourself killed! Lieutenant, stop!”

Hank grabbed onto Connor’s jacket and yanked him down.

“Let me go! I can’t let them get away!”

“There’s no way they’ll make it across and you won’t either! Lieutenant, stand down!”

Something in his tone and the sharp nature of the order made Connor stop. He took a few shaky breaths, looking from Hank to the android and child trying to run across the road. He couldn’t let them go! This was a perfect opportunity to capture a deviant android that wasn’t completely overwhelmed by its glitches and coding for questioning. He couldn’t fail again. Connor made to start climbing but once more, Hank grabbed onto him, sternly snapping,

“Connor, stop!”

“Why do you care? You’re an android so you’ll do what I tell you and you’ll let me do what I have to!”

“You know that there are some orders an android can disobey. All androids can intervene when their owner or _partner_ is about to do something stupid that will potentially get them killed!”

Connor scowled and let go of the fence. “Perhaps, but they’re not supposed to talk back. Is that a ‘special feature’ of yours?”

“Maybe.”

Connor looked back to see that the two androids had made it across. The AX400 knelt down, hugging the smaller YK500. He stared for a long time, an uncomfortable tightness building in his chest.

 _It’s all just a simulation_ , he reminded himself, finally turning away, _They’re just mimicking human relationships. It’s not real._

“Lieutenant?”

The android was still watching him, whether waiting for an order or out of concern that he might make a run for it again, Connor wasn’t sure. He hated how worried the thing looked, the way they designed the personable face to imitate actual concern. It didn’t care. It _couldn’t_ care. It was just like the faux affection that the YK models were supposed to have for their ‘parents’ or that nanny androids had for their surrogate human charges.

“We should head back to the DPD,” Connor said finally, “We have a lot of paperwork to file because of this.”

“I suggest getting lunch first.” Hank looked over Connor in a way that made him feel like Hank was scanning him. “You didn’t eat anything this morning, correct?”

“I had coffee,” Connor grumbled with a shrug.

“Coffee isn’t a meal replacement. Come on.”

Hank walked off back down the alley without waiting for a response. Connor stared and hurried after him.

“Hey! Since when was it your job to babysit me?”

“Since you made it necessary,” Hank said, “Although it isn’t part of my purpose to care for humans like service models, it _is_ in my best interest to make sure that you’re functioning at your utmost potential since you’re my partner.”

“I don’t have a partner,” Connor insisted, but with less heart than he would have liked.

“I’m guessing you want to drive?”

“Yes!”

“Good.”

“Wait, I didn’t agree to go—“

“If you keep griping about it I’ll have to report it. Like I said back at the station, I will do whatever is necessary to accomplish my mission. You seem like the best person to work with on this case so I would like to continue our partnership.”

“I’m the _only_ person who can work on this case,” Connor bit back, “No one else is familiar with the cases involving androids.”

“Exactly, so in order to ensure efficiency we should continue to cooperate.”

“That’s not what I—oh fuck off.”

 

Connor drove them to a food truck called Chicken Feed. It started to rain again while they drove. Connor tapped his thumb on the steering wheel, ignoring the white knuckles of his right hand. He was all too happy to get out of the car and even a little glad that Hank had insisted so hard on them going to eat rather than heading back to the DPD. The drive there would have taken longer.

The neon sign of the food truck reflected back into the growing puddles. Connor strolled up to the food truck undeterred by the downpour or loitering customers (many of whom he knew had records). Hank followed closely behind him, an ever-present shadow that he was slowly beginning to get used to despite only knowing him for about a day.

“I’m surprised you chose this place,” Hank commented before they crossed the street.

“I used to come here a lot with someone,” Connor replied softly.

He waved to the owner, Gary, who acknowledged Connor’s presence with a smile.

“Been a while, kid. Who’s the old guy? Wait, is that an android? You know I don’t like those things around here.”

“I can’t do anything about it,” Connor said, “DPD and CyberLife assigned it to me. Look, it’s been a rough morning. Can we skip the questions?”

“Yeesh, I can tell. Usual?”

“Yup—make the fries a double though.”

Now that he was in front of the truck with the smell of fried goodness wafting at him, he acknowledged his stomach’s complaints.

“When do I not?” Gary took a chicken breast out and battered it before tossing it into the fryer. “How’s Amanda doing?”

“She’s doing better. A few weeks ago she was out of the station, but the doctors say she’ll make a full recovery.”

“That’s good.”

Gary took the chicken out after a few minutes, slapping it onto a bun and wrapping it up. He put the sandwich into a paper bag along with a heaping mass of fries. He then went to fill up a cup with soda and passed it and the bag over.

“Hope your day gets better, kid.”

Connor nodded and took his food over to a table. Hank dutifully followed. The android remained quiet until Connor unwrapped the chicken sandwich.

“It’s good to eat comfort food when you’re feeling down, but you really shouldn’t eat that.”

“Dare I ask why?”

“Even though it’s protein, you’ve gone and had it fried. That’s the last thing you need. You shouldn’t have that soda either since you already had coffee today.”

Connor defiantly set his sandwich down and took a large gulp of his soda.

“I’m just saying, it’s not a good idea especially given that you already have a slight heart arrhythmia presumably from sleep deprivation and poor diet.”

“Can you stop doing that?”

“What?”

“Scanning me and my food! Can’t a guy eat in peace?” Connor picked his sandwich back up, taking a bite. “What’s with you anyway? You’re not designed like most other androids.”

Connor gestured vaguely with his sandwich at Hank’s overall being.

“If you’re talking about my appearance, that’s because I was specifically designed to inspire trust. Younger looking versions of my model were tested, but it was found that generally, people reacted better to an older, more authoritative appearance when dealing with traumatic situations. Since I’m designed to interface with law enforcement, criminals, and victims, it was decided that this design would inspire the most confidence.”

“Pft, you, authoritative? Right. How do you feel about it? Your appearance I mean?”

It was an offhanded comment. In all honesty, Connor hadn’t considered much when he asked it—it was just a simple question to him after all. He noticed Hank’s LED briefly spike yellow while he considered his response though, which Connor was starting to register as unusual when dealing with Hank. Connor was used to androids with the preprogrammed comments and interactions—delicately made scripts designed to help them perfectly integrate. Hank wasn’t like that though. To be able to perform his tasks within the DPD, he had to be more flexible with his thought process. He had to have problem-solving skills that went beyond the norm. Even so, the pause in conversation unnerved Connor a little.

“I think it helps,” he finally said, “Do humans feel anything about their appearance?”

“Of course they do,” Connor affirmed while he took a pickle out from beneath the bun to eat it separately. “They care about it a little too much if you ask me.”

“They care about their spaces as well, don’t they? Lieutenant, why don’t you have any personal items at your desk?”

Connor startled, narrowing his eyes a bit, “Why do you ask?”

“I found it odd. That’s all. Call me curious.”

He looked away briefly towards his car before shrugging, trying to appear nonchalant. “Never really saw a reason to I guess. Work is work and I don’t have anything worth decorating my space with.”

“Not even gear from your favorite sports team or with pictures of your dog?”

“How did you know I have a dog?”

“Captain Stern told me. Also, white dog hair shows up pretty well on black fabric.”

Connor looked down at his shirt, which was indeed covered in dog hair. He usually made a habit to at least keep his appearance somewhat professional (he usually wore a button down shirt with a blazer) but he’d been lagging that morning, to say the least. He didn’t acknowledge that he’d been having that issue for quite a few mornings over the past few months.

“What’s your dog’s name?”

Connor sighed and took out his phone (which Hank had insisted he charge on the way to the food truck using the cigarette port in his car). He pressed the home button and handed it over. The screen showed a picture of the Saint Bernard in all of his glory, covered in mud and paused mid-leap, seconds before he ran over the hapless photographer.

“His name’s Jayden but I call him Jay.”

“He looks like a handful,” Hank said, smiling before handing over the phone.

“He is, but he’s mine now so I’ll make sure he’s happy even if he does insist on eating every new pair of shoes I get.”

“Did you get him from the pound?”

“No.”

Connor turned off the phone and stuck it into his pocket. He went back to his sandwich, ignoring the curious look the android gave him.

“Mind if I ask you something?”

“You already did, but go on.”

“You don’t want a partner and you didn’t seem to happy to get me. The captain said you don’t like androids either. How come?”

“I work better alone. Simple as that. As for androids, I don’t have to explain myself to you so you can go report it back to CyberLife’s quality assurance or whatever.”

“That information isn’t relevant to my mission so there wouldn’t be a reason to report it back.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“Because I think knowing would help me to better understand you.”

Connor crumpled up the sandwich wrapper and started on his fries, “You don’t need to understand. My turn to ask a question. Most androids are designed to be pleasant with a relatively blank customer service personality. That doesn’t seem to be the case with you.”

Hank arched an eyebrow, which was a rather curious expression on an android. “Is there something wrong with my personality?”

“Not really,” Connor found himself saying, “I just thought it was interesting. You were designed to integrate into any police department or team, so I guess it makes sense that you’re a little different.”

Hank looked away and at first Connor thought that perhaps he’d confused the thing, but a moment later Hank straightened. He nodded to Connor’s fries.

“Go ahead and finish up. We’ve just received a report about a suspected deviant. It’s a few blocks away if you want to check it out.”

“Of course I do.”

Connor went to wrap up the fries, but Hank stopped him.

“I said to finish up. We have time.”

Normally if a partner had nagged him about leaving a meal unfinished he would have ignored them. Hell, he’d even ignored Amanda at times depending on how deep into a case he was. This time though, Connor relented and went back to picking at the fries.

“Have you worked any cases before, Hank?”

The android considered, a surprisingly distant look in his eyes. “A few. Only one involved a deviant though. You know the PL600 model that held a little girl hostage? I saw it on your wall so I know you’re aware of the details. I was the negotiator on that case.”

Connor paused, setting down a fry, “You saved that girl’s life. You got the android to surrender her.”

Hank nodded, “Deviants can be reasoned with if we work with their anomalous programs. They’re just overwhelmed because of the errors.”

“You almost sound like you pity them.”

Hank shook his head, “It’s just an unfortunate situation that needs to be addressed before more humans get hurt.”

Connor frowned, mumbling “Yeah, I guess,” even though he part of him wondered about that. In the past twenty-four hours, he’d come across two deviant cases that seemed to involve androids running away out of fear. Carlos Ortiz’s android was abused. Based on the records that Hank had obtained before they’d gone out that morning, it looked like the android Markus may have been abused as well. The PL600 that had taken the girl hostage was acting out of self-preservation—in essence, fear. Was it wrong that androids didn’t want to be disassembled or scrapped? They were designed to fulfill a purpose after all. Perhaps some bit in that programming went haywire when their being was threatened. In order to preserve their purpose, they were forced to protect themselves.

Connor pushed the thoughts away before he could get too far into them reminding himself that in the end, it was probably just a programming error, not a consciousness.

Connor finished his lunch and soda. He took his keys out of his pocket, gesturing to Hank to follow him.

“Fill me in on the details of the tip you received.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's Markus! In this AU, Markus is in Kara's place.
> 
> So far I've revealed:  
> -Hank and Connor are swapped  
> -Chloe and Elijah Kamski are swapped  
> -Markus is Todd William's android
> 
>  
> 
> This chapter still followed the continuity of the game but I think the major divergence will start next chapter, which should be from Hank's POV since this chapter was all Connor.


	4. Conditionals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank and Connor chase a deviant. Connor makes a few mistakes. Hank is forced to make a tough call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains the use of sleep medication used in a somewhat abusive way. I know medications and drugs can be a touchy subject so I just wanted to give a fair warning.
> 
> There were a lot of typoes last chapter and there are probably a decent number for this one as well. Sorry--I'll retroactively go back to fix them.
> 
> I changed the rating of this fic because of this chapter. If you played the game though honestly, I won't be writing anything worse than what was in the game.

_“You let the deviants go, Hank. Why?”_

_Hank shrugged, “The lieutenant was being reckless. I had to stop him. Unfortunately, that meant letting them go, but I assure you that won’t happen again.”_

_The man across from Hank nodded, leaning back in his chair. The garden felt more hostile than usual. Hank didn’t usually mind going in to make reports, but typically his reports were positive. Normally he didn’t fail._

_The man considered him before taking a moment to straighten his already perfect red tie. His outfit seemed impractical for the garden like he’d wandered in from a business meeting, but it made him all the more intimidating. Hank never felt daunted by him though. He’d always meant well and gave him sound if callous advice._

_“You know how important your mission is, right? If you fail, it could mean the end of everything—this goes beyond the end of CyberLife.”_

_“Of course I understand, Jeffrey! I’ll get it done. I’ve already made progress with the Lieutenant. He’s farther along in the case than we thought.”_

_“You’re sure he’s more of an asset than a liability? In your last report, you detailed some troubling observations.”_

_“The lieutenant may have some personal issues but he’s just as determined as CyberLife to find a solution to the deviant problem.”_

_“Have you learned anything new about him? Anything to keep him on a tighter leash?” Jeffrey asked._

_“I’ve made a few guesses about him based on my observations but I want to learn more before I come to any solid conclusions.”_

_“Fine, but research into him is secondary. Your primary objective is all that matters.”_

“Hank? You coming?”

Hank opened his eyes. He nodded and dutifully followed after the Lieutenant as they made their way through the seemingly abandoned apartment complex. How anyone could live here he wasn’t sure. The building seemed liable to collapse at any moment and it was covered in debris and dust. It was unfortunate really—perfectly livable space that had been left to rot.

“What was that about? Are your processors are the fritz or something?”

“Huh? Oh, it’s nothing to be worried about. I was sending a quick report to CyberLife about the earlier deviant.”

“Right. Handy.”

The Lieutenant left it at that, falling silent as they headed down the long hallway. His head was on a constant swivel as if he expected the worst. Hank supposed it made sense. You didn’t become a Lieutenant at twenty-five without having a good degree of caution. They checked a few open doors along the hall, most of which only showed evidence of pigeons as tenants.

“It's sad,” the lieutenant said in a low voice, “So many derelict buildings. They’re just drug houses now.”

Hank nodded but said nothing. The lieutenant was already moving on, going to the closed door at the end of the hall. Once they reached the door, the lieutenant knocked, announcing their presence. When they heard a thud, but no answer, he lightly pushed Hank behind him and took out his gun. He gave Hank a countdown, then kicked down the door. He moved in first only to be assailed by a tornado of feathers and small, panicked bodies.

“Shit!” he shouted, putting up his arms to shield himself from the onslaught of pigeons, “What the actual hell?”

Hank grabbed the lieutenant’s back and pulled him out of the room. “Wait for them to settle.”

The lieutenant nodded, spitting out a few feathers. Bits of debris clung to him and Hank impulsively reached out, plucking a feather from his hair. Hank looked at the feathers with a sort of morbid curiosity. He wasn’t sure he liked pigeons. They appeared to be disruptive and panicked a little too easily for his taste.

As soon as the birds calmed down they carefully waded back inside and began to search the apartment to see if there was any validity to the tip they’d received. It wasn’t long before the two started to piece together the situation. Someone was currently living there and caring for the birds. They found evidence that whoever was living there was using an assumed identity and was most likely an android based on a false ID and a broken off LED in the bathroom sink. What puzzled Hank though wasn’t the false identity, obsessive RA9 writing splattered on the walls, or the strange, encrypted journal they found. It was the birds and the android’s desire to care for them. What was the point? They were wild and could care for themselves. They made a mess of everything. Why bother with them?

His mind drifted back to the fish he’d found back at the Phillip’s home and his decision to pick it up. It was illogical and completely unrelated to the objective he’d had, but he hadn’t been able to leave it. There was something about the helpless way it had flopped on the ground, barely clinging to life that drew him over. It was an illicit moment—one he kept logged in his memory away from the prying scans of Jeffrey, CyberLife, and at times himself. _It was a pointless move—illogical._

“Hey. . . Hank. Come here.”

The lieutenant’s voice drew him away from his worrisome thoughts. Hank went over to where the lieutenant was standing, peering up at a door in the ceiling.

“Boost me up into the crawlspace up there.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea—“

As soon as he said it, the door burst open and a body slammed down into the lieutenant, knocking him hard into the ground. Hank hesitated, looking from the lieutenant to the fleeing android, but the lieutenant didn’t stay down long. Even as he coughed to force air back into his lungs he clambered to his feet, gesturing for Hank to pursue the deviant. He didn’t need to be told twice. Hank took off, his attention and purpose now solely focused on catching the deviant. He could hear the lieutenant not far behind him, breath coming in sharp gasps as he managed to keep pace. Hank pressed on, running across the rooftop after the deviant and followed it down onto the terrace. He calculated three potential routes and weighed his options, ultimately opting to go for the faster, if more dangerous route.

They came to the edge of the first roof. The deviant leaped and so did Hank. He heard a soft thud behind him and was aware of the lieutenant still running behind. A small twinge of worry wormed its way into Hank’s mind, but he pushed it aside. The mission was all that mattered.

Apparently, the lieutenant felt the same way.

He ran past Hank just as they reached a greenhouse and went through the route Hank calculated as too risky due to the crowd. His choice though allowed him to gain on the deviant. Hank watched the two disappear over the lip of the roof. _This kid is insane!_ he thought, a swear on his lips as he forced his systems to their max to try to catch up. He jumped the edge and slid down the glass roof, rushing into the next warehouse and exiting out into a field of violet and lilac flowers. He saw the deviant and lieutenant running up on a catwalk towards another edge.

“Lieutenant!” Hank shouted, climbing up the ladder and pursuing just close enough to watch the two once again disappear.

He reached the edge in time to see the lieutenant sliding down another greenhouse roof towards a moving train. A pang of distress hit him. The success rate was too low. The lieutenant had only a 10% chance of success. He watched in horror as he jumped and landed, rolling as he did.

“Holy shit . . .”

Hank glared and pressed on, following the lieutenant’s path. Stress and worry made him overclock his systems until he nearly caught up. The lieutenant was nearly on the deviant, practically nipping at his heels. Just as they made to jump to another roof though, the deviant landed, turned, and lashed out, shoving the lieutenant back before he could catch the ledge.

A shock ran through him (had his thirium pump paused?) as he watched the lieutenant fall, grasping out to just barely brush his fingers against the edge of the roof. There was a look on his face Hank had never seen before: fear.

Hank registered the situation in an instant. He could catch the deviant, or he could let the lieutenant fall.

**CHANCE OF CATCHING DEVIANT: 89%**

**CHANCE OF LIEUTENANT'S SURVIVAL: 60%**

He could practically feel Jeffrey’s gaze leaching through his eyes as he crossed the gap and reached out to grab the lieutenant’s wrist.

“Grab onto me!”

“Get the deviant!” the lieutenant shouted, “I’m fine! Go!”

Hank wavered. Something snapped in him though and he barked back, “The fuck I’m letting you go!”

The lieutenant stared, the shock of his biting curse almost making him lose his grip. Hank took advantage of that to grab him with both hands and yank him up onto the roof. Once he was sure that there was no permanent harm to him Hank shouted,

“What were you thinking? Do you have any idea how stupid all of that was?”

The lieutenant came back to his senses and shoved Hank away, “What was I thinking? You had one job! I told you to get the deviant! You disobeyed a direct order!”

Hank forced himself to soften his tone. “I weighed the odds and there was a higher probability of you dying or being permanently disabled if I left you behind. It was a logical decision.”

“I don’t care! All that matters is the mission!”

Hank slapped him across the face. “The mission? What about your life?”

The lieutenant’s eyes widened. He reached up to touch the spot where he’d been slapped, his jaw clenched tight. Regret pinged though Hank’s system. The lieutenant swallowed hard and after a moment looked away, taking a deep breath.

“Of course. I…” he faltered, at a loss for words.

Hank watched him before reaching out and gently pulling his hand away from his cheek. “I apologize. I shouldn’t have been so forceful.”

The words felt automated, even to his audio processors. His LED pulsed yellow beneath his hair. It was the third time that day he’d accosted the lieutenant. It was irrational. It was wrong. He’d never done this on his other missions. He’d maintained a cool and steady mind, working to integrate as seamlessly as possible. Not with Connor though. The lieutenant frustrated him. How could someone so levelheaded and logical also be so stupid and reckless? It didn’t make sense and it didn’t make sense why he cared so much. Was it part of his assimilation protocols? Were his programs adjusting subliminally to work with the lieutenant in response to his actions and words, or was there something faulty with his code?

“You’re a very strange android.” The lieutenant got slowly to his feet and reached out a hand to Hank to help him up. “You shouldn’t slap people you know—whether you’re a human or an android. It’s not a good way to get people to like you.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” The lieutenant gazed out towards the direction they’d last seen the deviant running. “My carelessness cost us the mission.”

“Where’d you learn to run like that?”

“Hmm?”

Hank gestured back to the path they’d taken, “You not only kept up with a specialized detective android, but you outpaced it.”

The lieutenant’s face became guarded. The seconds trickled by and Hank stopped expecting an answer. He started to make his way over towards the fire escape on the opposite side of the roof.

“My brother. I used to chase after him all over the city when we were younger. It helped train me for this sort of thing. Amanda said we were terrors to the neighbors.”

“I see. Well, it was effective, if stupid training.”

“Excuse me?” He seemed genuinely surprised by Hank’s remark.

Hank glanced back at the lieutenant and said in a soft voice, “It’s dangerous to do things like that. You should be more careful. Anyway, we should head back to the DPD. You have a lot to report.”

 

* * *

 

Connor remained at the DPD long after Hank left. Connor could have gone home. Hell, he should have gone home after the morning and afternoon he’d had, but instead he kept working. He logged all of his thoughts and worked on trying to connect the dots. His mind ran in circles though. All he could think about was the incident on the roof—the open air beneath his feet, the rough cement barely catching the tips of his fingers. He looked down at the now coarse skin left behind on his fingers. As many times as he told himself not to think about it and to focus, the memory kept jumping back up into his mind unbidden.

Connor slammed his fist down the desk. A few of the officers glanced over at him but no one confronted him, not even Gavin. _Not like Hank…_ Connor scowled and abruptly stood up, grabbing his jacket.

“Finally heading out, Connor?”

Amanda walked over, a fresh cup of coffee in her hand. She didn’t offer it to him.

“I can’t focus. There’s too much noise.”

“Is that so?” She glanced around, “Oh yes, I forgot how loud thinking and typing are.”

Connor said nothing, opting instead to simply start pulling on his jacket. Maybe he did need sleep. His mind wouldn’t shut up. Everything just kept spiraling through it; thoughts of his brother, the roof, the deviant cases, and Hank. His head was already starting to throb and he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking.

“You’ve had a long day. Go get some rest and make sure your phone is charged.”

“I’m fine,” Connor snapped but he started to head out nevertheless.

It was only four in the afternoon. He shouldn’t have been heading home. It felt unnatural. He was in his car before he realized it though and home seemed to arrive before he’d blinked. He went up to his apartment in a daze, greeting Jay and giving him an extra treat along with his dinner before flopping onto the couch and curling up without changing out of his work clothes. Even as he shut his eyes though, the thoughts continued to swarm him, now accompanied by images of the past that he fought to bury down. He kept seeing the car and feeling the weightlessness of free fall in his gut.

After a while, Connor groaned and got up again. He took off his shoes and put on his sweats before going to the cabinets. He pulled out a glass and a bottle of vodka, pouring himself a double. He drank half before going over to the board behind his door, frowning at it. He was tired of playing catch up when it came to chasing deviants. He wanted to get ahead and focusing on the case would help to fight down the thoughts that kept threatening to overwhelm him. They’d figured out the connection of fear and self-preservation, but that didn’t help them find the deviants before they went off.

Connor picked up the marker from off the top of the board and set to work, logging once again everything he’d learned that day, noting every detail he could remember about each deviant and case. He also made a section about Hank. The android was unusual and Connor wondered just what else was different about his programming compared to other androids. His ability to adapt and show personality was highly unusual.

In the end, he felt like he was once again just trying to chase his own tail. Jay came over to him, tugging at his shirt and whining. The room was almost completely shrouded in night. Only the dim light from the streetlights outside illuminated the apartment. Connor sighed and reached out, scratching Jay’s head before going to grab his leash. His world spun slightly from the sudden movement. _My tolerance has really gone to shit lately_ , he thought, annoyed. He finished off his drink before taking Jay out around the block. When he came back, he gave the board a break and attempted to rest again.

He put in an honest effort to try and sleep but he ended up just tossing and turning on the couch for almost an hour before he finally got up and went over to the kitchen. He grabbed the pill bottle from off the counter and took out a few pills, downing it with a half glass of water. He went back to the couch and curled up, shutting his eyes. Ten minutes later he turned on the TV for background noise. The light and monotonous, repetitive news broadcast eventually faded as sleep overtook him.

 

* * *

 

As per usual, the lieutenant wasn’t answering his phone. Hank stood outside of the apartment, debating. It was only about 8 o’clock at night, but the lieutenant had been sent home early at the captain’s insistence. There were plenty of other officers Hank could follow to the crime scene they were being called to, but none of them had the same familiarity with androids and deviants that the lieutenant did. No, he wanted the lieutenant on the case with him. Besides, he also wanted to make sure that the lieutenant was okay. The ride back to the DPD had been completely silent while the lieutenant lost himself in thought. Hank was starting to learn that that was a habit of his. If he wasn’t discussing the case with Hank, he was parsing through it on his own. He’d barely acknowledge Hank’s presence after they’d logged the evidence from the two reports that afternoon. Hank had had to excuse himself twice before the lieutenant recognized that he was leaving.

The lieutenant lived in a much nicer building than the one they’d visited earlier. It was only about four stories tall and Hank guessed it probably only had twenty-four small units. It was a reasonable if modest abode. Hank went to the front entrance and called up to the lieutenant’s apartment. Minutes passed. He tried again. Still no answer. It was quite possible that the lieutenant was ignoring him. Hank pressed his hand to the front lock and sent it a quick signal to unlock. There was a click and Hank pulled the door open, heading inside. He went to the elevator and rode it to the fourth floor. The lieutenant’s apartment was at the very end of the hall. The small corner unit had a simple, well-worn doormat on the outside.

Hank knocked on the door. “Lieutenant! It’s Hank!”

He heard shuffling inside—paws on a hardwood floor—but the door remained shut. Hank tried again. There was a single, deep bark from within the apartment.

Hank glanced up at the top of the door and reached up, finding the hidden key that the captain had mentioned that morning. Deciding he would apologize later for the intrusion, he unlocked the door and stepped inside.

There were no lights on in the apartment. The TV and streetlights offered enough illumination though for Hank to see the large Saint Bernard standing at the door. Its tail wagged and it eagerly went up to Hank, sniffing his pants and barking again. Hank hesitated, then reached out a hand, smiling.

“Jay? Hey boy, where’s your owner, huh?”

Hank shut the door behind him and looked around. At a glance, the apartment was small and clean. Beside the door were a row of shoes and a hanger with a dog leash. Right next to the door to the left was a tiny kitchen (which the Saint Bernard almost entirely took up). Directly ahead of him was what he thought at first to be the living room, but noticing a distinct lack of doors he realized the apartment was more of a studio design, which meant the lieutenant was likely just out of sight beyond the peninsula.

Hank walked further into the apartment and saw that sure enough, the lieutenant was passed out on the couch, his head lolled against the arm. _Well, they did say he had a habit of crashing._ As Hank got closer, however, he immediately realized something was wrong. The lieutenant’s breathing was irregular. It was too slow and he found himself immediately running a scan of the lieutenant’s prone form. His pulse was also off and Hank registered the presence of alcohol on him. His gaze turned back to the kitchen where there was an empty glass on the counter and a bottle of pills. _Ambien?_ Hank read the dosage. 10 mg. That was rather high, although still within the standard range for men. However, if he’d combined it with alcohol or gone over the recommended dosage…

Hank swore and shook the lieutenant, “Wake up! Connor!”

The lieutenant didn’t respond. Hank debated what to do. Call for an ambulance? That was probably wise, but it would also undoubtedly get the lieutenant in trouble. Not calling could get him killed though. Hank tried to wake him again, shaking him and calling his name.

Relief shuddered through him as the lieutenant’s eyes fluttered open. He could see the effort it took and Hank immediately tried to engage and encourage him.

“Hey, wake up. Connor, it’s me. You’ve got to come work a case, all right? I need you to get up.”

His eyes weren’t focusing. Hank gently cupped his cheek, getting close to try to get his attention.

“You did something stupid again, but I’m not mad—I will be pissed though if you don’t get it together. Do I need to call Amanda?”

That worked. The lieutenant’s eyes shuffled to meet Hank’s. He stared at him before his eyes started to water and he let his head fall forward, his brow resting on Hank’s.

“I’m fine. I can work. You don’t have to call Amanda.”

“Like hell your fine.” Hank looked around. “Sit up. We need to get some food in your stomach. I can tell you haven’t eaten since lunch.”

“I’m fine.”

He started to try to stand up only to stumble back onto the couch. The effort left him winded.

Hank sighed. He was going to have to ask another officer to cover the Eden Club call after all. There was no way the lieutenant would recover in time for them to get to the Eden Club before someone else took up the call.

He’d cross the bridge when he reached it. Twenty minutes wasn’t long enough for the lieutenant to sober up, but he supposed there was always a chance he could get him at least somewhat functional and over to the crime scene so he could examine it and report it all to the lieutenant in the morning.

With that goal in mind, Hank went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Empty other than a carton of blueberries and a small bottle of creamer. He went to the two cabinets and had a little more luck. He took down a box of saltine crackers and a Cup Noodles. He set a kettle on to boil, then brought the crackers over to the lieutenant. He spoke the entire time in an attempt to hold the lieutenant’s conscious. It worked for the most part and when he went to hand the box to the lieutenant he reached out at least to accept it. Hank still had to open the box for him and tell him to snack a bit while he made dinner.

Hank returned to the kitchen and was just pouring the hot water into the Cup Noodles when he heard the lieutenant mutter something about being sick. Hank immediately dropped what he was doing and hurried over, helping the lieutenant up and rushing him to the bathroom. He made it just in time for the lieutenant to lose all of the crackers, vodka, and whatever else was in his stomach.

“You don’t have to stay,” the lieutenant gasped after he regained a bit of control, “I might be a minute.”

It was good to hear him at least speaking coherently. Hank gave him a gentle pat on the shoulder and let him be. He finished getting the Cup Noodles ready and brought it over to the coffee table. Hank looked around the apartment wondering if there was something else he could do while he waited for the lieutenant to recover. Everything was tidy apart from the clothes that had been tossed on the floor near the bathroom. Hank knelt down to pick them up and took them over to the hamper beside the dresser on the far wall.

For the first time, Hank saw a hint of personalization in the lieutenant’s otherwise sterile life. There were a few framed pictures on top of the dresser. Hank recognized one of them as the same picture from the Captain’s desk. This one, however, was in pristine condition and he could clearly make out the second man in the photo. He was nearly identical to Connor other than his pale eyes and a stern expression that lingered despite the smile on his face.

 

> **DECEASED**
> 
> **ANDERSON, NILES**
> 
> Born: 09/9/2009 – Died: 11/23/2035

Hank looked at the other photos. They all featured the lieutenant with Niles. There was one with them on Halloween as kids. One with them on what may have been a vacation to the beach with the captain. One showed the two of them standing together dressed in uniform. A badge and hat sat beside the photo.

The lieutenant came out a moment later, white and shaky. There was an angry red splotch near the bridge of his nose and Hank suspected that he’d smacked his face at some point on the toilet while being sick. He half flopped onto the couch and stared at the ramen in front of him, disgust clear on his face. Hank went over to him and picked up the ramen, passing it over. The lieutenant took it with trembling hands and with what Hank guessed was a great deal of will, forced himself to take a bite.

“What are you doing here anyway?” he asked through a mouthful of ramen.

“Well, now I’m taking care of you. The hell were you thinking, mixing alcohol and sleep medicine?”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“We were called to investigate a crime scene at the Eden Club,” Hank said after a long pause, “But I don’t think you should go into work given your current state.”

The lieutenant sat down the ramen and started to get up, going over to the dresser.

“I don’t have much of a choice do I?” He fumbled with the drawer before swearing and resting his head on the lip of the dresser. “I’m not…I’m not normally like this. You don’t have to report this to HR or Amanda.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Hank said, “But really—what the hell were you thinking?”

“I was tired, alright? I was tired but I couldn’t sleep so I used something to help. There’s nothing wrong with that. I didn’t get my prescription illegally or something like that if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Hank gauged that he was telling the truth. He got up and went to the dresser, helping to open up the drawer. He pulled out a clean shirt and a pair of jeans, holding them out to the lieutenant.

“Have you considered that maybe you should do something else to help you sleep? All that coffee probably isn’t helping.”

The lieutenant took the clothes and sat down on the couch. He changed without much regard to Hank’s presence.

“I don’t have a choice. I have a job and it’s not the sort of job that affords slacking off. If that means pushing myself then so be it.”

“You’ll get yourself killed if you keep it up.”

“And why do you care? I get that you have a string that’s making you think you care but frankly, it’s starting to annoy me. You have a task. Forget about me and do it.”

The lieutenant pushed himself to his feet, swaying slightly and holding his head.

“You’re dizzy.”

“I’ll be fine. Where’re my keys?”

“I’m driving.” Hank went to the counter and snatched up the keys.

“No! It’s my car and I don’t like to have others drive me, especially not androids.”

“You can barely stand and stay awake and you want to drive? Look, if you want to go to this crime scene you’re going to have to listen to me. If you don’t want to, I’ll call someone else to handle the case.”

“You’re bluffing. I know you can lie. You lied to Ortiz’s android.”

“I’m not lying about this.”

The lieutenant glared at him but eventually relented. He went to pick up his shoes, muttering that he’d put them on in the elevator. Hank helped him out to the car, keeping a careful eye on both him and the road while he drove. There were a few times the lieutenant started to nod off, but each time Hank called his name, making sure that he stayed in the present.

Hank knew he shouldn’t have brought the lieutenant with him. He knew he would have been better off going with a different officer to the crime scene.

It was illogical of him.

He knew it was wrong.

He was starting to worry that there was an error in his program.


	5. Content Migration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank and Connor find two deviants. They have a very frank conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this one a few times. It took a bit of work to get it where I felt like the characters were acting like themselves.

The crime scene hurt his eyes. The Eden Club was unbearably bright with flashing neon lights that did nothing but further aggravate his budding headache. Hank handled the interview with the club’s owner and the interrogation of the dead— _no, deactivated_ , android who had been servicing the victim. Or were they both victims? Connor went through the crime scene in a daze. His mind drifted, unable to focus on any one train of thought in particular. It was infuriating. He knew he was missing valuable details. He could see it just by the way Hank rushed around the club. He kept looking back at Connor with a mixture of what could only be described as worry and irritation. _Stupid AI program._ Connor followed after Hank, piecing together things ten steps after him.

Connor wasn’t one to frequent normal clubs let alone clubs like the Eden Club. He knew that sex androids were popular and human rights activists lauded the benefits of androids since it helped to slow down sex trafficking. Maybe it was because the reaction the android from earlier had had when she—it—had woken up or the fact that he’d been hanging around Hank all day, but Connor couldn’t help but feel a sickness in the pit of his stomach that nothing to do with the medley of drugs, alcohol, and ramen in his gut.

He watched the androids dance or stand idly within their displays, reacting only when he was needed to swipe his card so Hank could probe their memories. Did it feel wrong for another android to search their memory forcibly? Hank didn’t seem to act like it was weird, but Connor vaguely reflected that he’d never really noticed androids in public using that feature. Watching Hank connect with the other androids, he wondered if he should look away. It seemed intimate, sharing a mind or memory card.

Once they got to the back Staff Only room, Connor took out his gun and after a moment's thought, held it out to Hank. He stared down at the weapon, confused.

“I’m not permitted to handle a gun.”

“You know how to use one though, right?”

“It is one of my programs, yes. I am a detective android.”

“Then take it. If I’m too messed up to drive a car and properly search a crime scene I most certainly shouldn’t be handling a gun.”

Hank took the gun and switched off the safety, “I’ll handle it, Lieutenant.”

Connor nodded and opened up the door.

The room opened up to the loading platform and served more as a shipping port it seemed than a staff room like he’d previously expected. Washing machines lined one wall and in the center of the room was an android in the process of being repaired. Along the far wall were dozens of androids waiting to be deployed. Again, there was that strange sensation in his gut. He went over to the android on the table. She looked too human. He was irrationally tempted to take off his jacket and put it over her prone form.

It wasn’t unusual to use androids until they broke or to replace them and toss the old models away if they were too damaged to repair for resale. How many times had the DPD thrown out androids that had been shot rather than spending the money to fix them? Hell, he knew the cleaning android for his apartment complex had been replaced after the chemicals had destroyed too much of its exterior to be ‘pleasing to the eye’ as the owner said. It felt wrong. They just used the androids until they no longer worked as if they were phones. Connor shook his head. It shouldn’t bother him. He _knew_ androids were just tech. _It’s just the medicine talking_ , he thought, shaking his head and moving away.

Connor searched around the area, spotting nothing of interest. His gaze drifted over to the line of androids waiting to be sent out. Hank knelt on the ground, tracing his fingers through a puddle of blue liquid. Connor didn’t have to ask what it was, although he did make a noise of irritation as Hank tested the blue blood to figure out which model it came from.

“Really? Again with that?”

Hank smirked at him, “What? Does it bother you?”

“I already feel like I’m going to be sick even without you doing that.”

Hank stood up suddenly and gave Connor a meaningful look before heading over to one group of standby androids, gun at the ready.

“I mean come on, Hank,” Connor continued as a way of giving Hank some cover, “At least tell me your mouth has some disinfectant or—“

One of the female androids suddenly jumped out at Hank and pushed him to the ground while a second leaped out and charged Connor. He was immediately tackled into the worktable. His reflexes were shit. The drug continued to linger in his body, slowly his reactions. He barely managed to catch her punch and he only just kept the screwdriver she picked up from piercing his head. It caught him in the arm, slicing through his jacket and nicking his shoulder. Connor gritted his teeth and kicked her off. She barely stumbled back from his kick. She grabbed the toolbox from the table and threw it at him, forcing Connor to throw up his arms to protect himself from the onslaught of metal while she bolted away.

“Hank!” Connor shouted as he recovered, “Don’t let them get away!”

He saw Hank rush out of the building after the two androids— _were they holding hands?_ —and Connor hurried after him, arriving just in time to see Hank cornering the two androids, his gun raised at the brown-haired android. Blue blood dripped from his nose, and the skin around his cheekbone and eye had receded, revealing the white plastic underneath.

“Put your hands up!” Hank shouted, “You’re under arrest!”

The blue-haired android moved in front of the other protectively. Were they were trying to defend each other? Connor stared. Hank watched them, his expression unreadable.

“He was going to kill me. I didn’t mean to kill him. I just wanted to get back to the one I love. You humans…can you even understand that?”

Connor didn’t answer. How could he? Looking at them, the way they held each other, defended each other, gazed at each other—it was so real. _A simulation_ , he reminded himself curtly _._ But just because it was a simulation did that make it any less real than what humans felt? Humans were just a medley of chemicals and wiring that went bad 99% of the time and caused the chaos known as emotions. Something in him rebelled—broke.

“Hank…” Connor began, but the android was already lowering the gun, his LED briefly flickering yellow.

The girls watched them cautiously before turning and helping each other to climb over the fence, escaping off into the night.

“I think I may have just gotten us both kicked off of the case.”

“Maybe…but I think you made the right choice.” Connor put a hand to his head, groaning. His headache had redoubled in the past half hour. “Fuck…I need a drink.”

“Lieutenant—“

“—of water.”

 

The owner of the Eden Club did not take their failure well, but frankly, Connor didn’t give a shit. He was tired, his head hurt, and all he wanted to do was get rid of the nausea still rolling through him. He let Hank drive again (against his better judgment) and after a quick stop at the corner market to pick up a sports drink to help with his dehydration they rolled up to the park where Hank had first found him. Snow was starting to come down, and while Connor wasn’t always a fan of the cold, he didn’t feel like going back to his apartment. Besides, the brisk air was helping to clear his mind.

Connor left the car and went over to lean against the far railing, looking out at the lake. The lights from the city danced across the water. With the snow, it was surprisingly picturesque and ideal. One could almost imagine it was a city other than Detroit. He felt something warm drape across his shoulders and was surprised to see that Hank had taken off his jacket and put it on him.

“The cold doesn’t bother me,” Hank explained.

“You don’t need to take care of me. I’m not your master, and you’re not some servant android.”

“You’re my partner. It is my duty to ensure that you’re in optimal condition.”

“Is that why you chose to keep working with me earlier instead of finding a more suitable officer?”

“You’re the most suitable—“

“Oh don’t give me that bullshit. When you found me, I wasn’t in any state to go to a crime scene. If you hadn’t found me…”

Connor sighed and took off the jacket, holding it out to Hank.

“You weren’t mad that I failed. Why?”

Connor ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t know. Why didn’t you shoot?”

“Destroying them would have ruined any chance of getting evidence. They weren’t going to come in without a fight and in the end; we would have had to shoot them. It’s better to find them on another day.”

“Is that right? See, as I see it, we still could have gotten evidence from them even if they were damaged. You hesitated.”

Hank said nothing in response to that. He looked down at the offered jacket but stubbornly refused to take it back.

“What’s your problem?”

It wasn’t a question Connor ever expected to hear from an android. “What?”

“You’re an officer of the law, but you act completely reckless! Do you ever think about what might happen if you get yourself killed doing something stupid? Or did you think about the trouble you cause others in your wake?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You! Today! First, you go chasing after those two deviants and nearly jump into the fucking highway to go after them! Then you decided you were going to just casually go roof hopping to follow the other one! Do I even need to bring up that you don’t bother to take care of yourself, you’re a workaholic, and oh, should I mention your practically suicidal tendencies when on and off the job?”

Connor stared at him, his jaw clenched shut. Hank glowered down at him, his gaze unwavering. Connor swallowed hard and looked away.

“Want to say I’m wrong, or should I remind you that I’m a detective android and it’s in my programming to profile people?”

Connor wheeled on him, “Then why do you keep insisting on working with me? If you’ve got so much information, report me! Find a better officer! Or is there something broken in your program making it so you can’t?”

“What are you insinuating?”

“That you’re not acting logically!”

They glared at each other, letting the words hang between them in the gathering snow. Hank finally turned away and headed back to the car. Connor expected him to stay there until he was ready to go but instead the android returned with the sports drink they’d bought and a first aid kit.

“You’re still bleeding and given your current condition, that’s not ideal.”

“Oh, are we back to stale personality Hank now? Was the other one not working with your integration with me as your partner?”

“I’m simply following my programming,” Hank said, holding out the sports drink.

Connor snatched it from him, opening and forcing himself to take a few sips of the cloyingly sweet drink.

“I do worry about you, Lieutenant. Whether that is in my programming or out of some concern for finishing the case, I can’t say, but I was genuinely pissed when I found you in that state earlier.”

“I didn’t ask for you to come.”

“No, but you’re my partner, so it’s my job, android or not.”

Hank tentatively moved to take off Connor’s jacket so he could tend to the small wound on his arm. Connor didn’t resist. He allowed Hank to take the coat and to roll up his sleeve to get a better look at the cut.

“What the hell got you?”

“Screwdriver.”

“Good thing she missed.”

“Yeah.”

They were silent while Hank cleaned and bandaged the wound. Connor tugged his jacket back on and put on Hank’s coat as well.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” When Connor didn’t say no, Hank continued, “There was a photo on your dresser of a young man who looked similar to you. Who was he?”

Connor shut his eyes. He took a deep breath of the cold air, shivering slightly as it started to seep into his bones.

“Lieutenant?”

“He was my brother,” Connor said finally, “My older brother, Nines.”

“Nines?”

“His nickname.”

“What happened to him?”

Connor shrugged, “What do you think happened? He died. Happens to the best of us.”

Hank studied him before taking out the gun Connor had given him earlier. He held it out to him.

“Are you afraid to die, Lieutenant?” When Connor didn’t respond, Hank pressed on, “That’s just it, isn’t it? You don’t care, do you? Don’t you ever think about what would happen if you died?”

“What like an android thinks about that?” Connor asked, taking the gun, checking the safety, and holstering it again. “What would happen if you died, huh?”

“There would be nothing. I would be replaced, but some part of me would be gone. Anything that CyberLife didn’t think was important would be thrown out.” Hank grabbed Connor’s shoulder. “You realize that if you die, there isn’t a second chance, right?”

Connor pulled away, “You think I don’t know that? I _know_ death. I’ve lost enough to understand that.”

“Really? Because you don’t act like it.”

“Stop worrying about me and focus on the case, Hank.” Connor finished his drink and started to head back to the car, “By tomorrow I want an analysis on the case—figure out what we’re doing wrong so we can finish this before it’s too late.”

Connor held his head the whole drive home. He told himself that the reason he still felt sick was because of what he’d done to his system. It wasn’t because of the words that kept replaying in his mind from Hank or the two androids. It wasn’t because of the sickening recollection of the night he tried to forget or the fear of Amanda catching wind of his antics and kicking him off the force. No…it had to be because he was still sick.


	6. Else if

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank and the lieutenant are called to an incident at the Stratford Tower.

It took Hank longer than it should have to get the lieutenant to bed. He refused to wind down after they got back to his apartment even though Hank could see the exhaustion in his face and body language. If he was annoyed by Hank’s presence though, he didn’t show it. If Hank hadn’t known better, he seemed relieved to have the company. When he wasn’t standing by his board, mapping out the events of the night and noting any details he didn’t want to forget, he was talking idly to Hank about small, inconsequential things like rumors at the DPD or the fact he was thinking about getting a bigger apartment so his dog would have more room. After nearly an hour, Hank finally managed to get the lieutenant to calm down, drink water, change into comfortable clothes again, and to relax on the couch. It took another hour for him to finally fall asleep, but even then it wasn’t a proper, restful sleep. He fell into a deep sleep too fast, and once he was asleep, he became enthralled by one intense dream after another.

Hank sighed. The lieutenant really was more trouble than he was worth. Logically he knew it would be better to ask for a different partner. He’d gained all of the information he needed on deviants from the lieutenant already, and he could make the connections just as quickly as him. He stayed though. What bit in his code made him so determined to remain by the lieutenant’s side to see the case through? It bothered Hank because he knew it wasn’t sensible. He knew he should report the lieutenant for his behavior. He had every reason to do so and he would probably be saving his life in the process.

He knew he wouldn’t though.

Hank frowned down at the young man curled up on the couch. He tucked in the blanket a little closer around his thin frame, careful not to jostle him too much. The last thing he wanted to do was accidentally wake him up now that he was finally asleep.

He looked peaceful, finally. The tension had eased from his brow, and to Hank’s surprise, he nestled into the blanket further. Hank had planned to leave once he was sure that the lieutenant was settled. Instead, he sat down on the couch beside him and closed his eyes to make his report…

 

_Hank opened his eyes. The garden was cold and a light snow fell onto the ground. Jeffrey walked over to him, his hands clasped lightly behind his back._

_“Hank. It’s about time you submitted your report.”_

_“I was held up,” he explained with a shrug, “Lieutenant wanted to talk about the case more.”_

_“The case you failed. You let those androids go. Explain.”_

_Hank still wasn’t sure why hadn’t pulled the trigger or tried to chase them. He knew the excuse he’d given to the lieutenant was just that—an excuse. There was something about them that had made him hesitate. The lieutenant had hesitated as well though—why? The lieutenant didn’t seem like the sort to let emotions cloud his judgment when it came to a case. Sure, he was reckless, but he’d seen how the lieutenant was when it came to catching a target or pursuing a lead. Had the medication caused the lieutenant to make a bad emotional call rather than a rational one that would have secured them with crucial evidence?_

_Hank straightened. “I didn’t want to destroy them since we would lose valuable evidence. We already have one deviant in our possession that is barely functioning. We need deviants who are operating at their normal capacity.”_

_“I see. While that’s regrettable, I’ll assume you made the best decision you could at the time given your limitations.” He let the words sink in. “The lieutenant seems to be holding you back.”_

_“To the contrary, I think he’s still a valuable asset. He’s proven that he’s willing to do almost anything to hunt deviants. While he had a regrettable lapse tonight in judgment, I recommend continuing to use him.”_

_Jeffrey considered his words before turning his back to Hank._

_“Time is running out. I want answers before these deviants become too emboldened. If something happens again and the lieutenant prevents you from succeeding on your mission, CyberLife will be forced to intervene.”_

_“Understood, sir.”_

The lieutenant slept until almost two in the afternoon. Hank checked him regularly throughout the night and morning to make sure that he was well. It seemed like when he crashed, he crashed hard. Captain Stern called Hank once, asking how the lieutenant was doing and based on her tone, he had the feeling she already knew the answer. He kept his response truthful, if somewhat vague. When the lieutenant finally did wake up, he sat up slowly, looking around the room with glossy eyes. It wasn’t until Hank started to make coffee that he came to full awareness and startled, staring at Hank.

“What are you still doing here?”

“What does it look like? Making coffee.”

“You don’t drink coffee.”

“No, but you do and you’re late for work by a good five hours.” Hank poured some of the fresh brew into a mug and brought it over to the still quite sleep ruffled lieutenant. “How are you feeling?”

“Hungover,” he grumbled, accepting the mug into two hands, which he cradled close to his chest. “You stayed here all night?”

“There was no need for me to return to CyberLife. I made my report while you rested.”

His gaze was too precocious for his own good. “You told them everything from the Eden Club?”

“To a degree. I left out a few details that were irrelevant.” Hank gave the lieutenant a wry smirk, quite pleased with himself.

He knew damn well that he’d saved the lieutenant’s ass and he wanted to make sure that the lieutenant understood. The lieutenant’s meek expression suggested he did. The man stared down into his coffee, taking in a heavy breath. Rather than some smart response, he picked up the remote from the coffee table and turned on the TV.

“ _—no one was harmed during the break-in at Stratford Tower. Authorities are moving in on the scene now to investigate the situation—“_

Hank stared at the images. A female android without her synthetic skin stood facing the camera. Her mismatch eyes stared back defiantly, but not hatefully at the camera as she made her demands. He didn’t recognize her model. _Another prototype like me_? he wondered, watching her and logging the information.

“ _—we simply ask to be recognized as free individuals. We are alive and want to be treated as such.”_

He couldn’t take his eyes away. She was clearly a deviant, but there was something else behind her words. He’d never seen a deviant who was confident and self-assured. To an outsider, her words seemed rational. If she’d been human, surely people would instantly listen to her demands and petition for her people to be given full rights. _But she’s just a deviant. She’s not really alive._ His thoughts drifted back to the androids from the night before. They’d seemed alive too in their own way. He remembered the rush of relief he’d felt when the lieutenant hinted that it was ok to let them go. It took him a moment to register that the lieutenant was talking to him and even longer to process the words. Hank glanced over, trying to appear mild.

“Did we receive a call yet from Amanda?”

“The Captain called this morning, but that was before the break-in.”

“Send her a message and tell her we’re on our way to the scene.”

“We haven’t been assigned—“

“All cases related to androids are ours. We’re going.”

The fire was back in the lieutenant’s eyes. Hank couldn’t help the smile that crept onto his face. The lieutenant pushed his blankets off and practically vaulted off the couch. On the way to the bathroom, he scooped up some half clean clothes off of the floor, which he haphazardly started to get dressed in while also trying to brush his teeth. The full effort was comical and less than effective, but Hank let him have his moment.

While the lieutenant got ready, he fed Jay and tidied up the couch that the lieutenant used as a bed. He folded the blankets and put the pillow on the back of the sofa. Looking around, he then went to straighten anything that seemed out of place and then went to fill up a to-go mug of coffee for the lieutenant.

The lieutenant came out of the bathroom a moment later dressed in a pair of slightly rumpled dark jeans and a clean white button-down shirt that Hank suspected he’d had hanging up in the bathroom given its lack of wrinkles. His eyes scanned the room, noting each thing that Hank had done.

“You didn’t have to,” he said, going to grab a grey jacket off of the rung behind the front door, “But I appreciate it.”

“Eh, I figured it was only right since you let me stay here last night.”

“I didn’t let you stay.” He picked up the coffee thermos off of the counter and opened the door. “I’m driving.”

“It would be more efficient for me to drive, but since you’re feeling better who am I to stop you?”

The lieutenant gave Jay a quick pat on the head before heading out. Hank gave the dog a farewell scratch too before moving aside so the lieutenant could lock the door.

They were halfway to Stratford Tower when Hank received messages from both CyberLife and Stern, informing them that they were requested on the scene. Hank was surprised to see the lieutenant push the speed limit just a little to get to Stratford Tower quicker. He knew he would do just about anything when it came to a case, but Hank had assumed that after their conversation last night, things might have changed. Humans were complicated though. He knew this. Change wasn’t going to happen overnight, especially not when it came to Lieutenant Anderson.

 

“The evidence isn’t going anywhere,” Hank said on the way up the elevator.

The lieutenant was busy fidgeting with a coin, letting it roll between his fingers. It was impressive, especially for a human. His maneuvers became progressively quicker and more assured as he continued, his eyes on the steadily changing floor number.

“That trick have anything to do with the coin on your desk?”

The lieutenant stopped, catching the coin between two fingers. “You ask a lot of personal questions.”

“What can I say I’m designed to be curious.”

“Well, they hit the nail with that although they could upgrade your integration software.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Mind if I try?”

The lieutenant actually smiled. He passed the coin over, “Have at it.”

Hank mimicked the lieutenant’s earlier trick, adding in a few flairs of his own. It was satisfying. He could feel the motion helping his systems to calibrate in a somewhat unexpected way. The movements became smoother and more natural—even enjoyable; not that he was thinking about things like that.

There was a soft chime and the elevator door opened. The lieutenant left the elevator before Hank could give the coin back. _Already eager to chase._ Hank shook his head and put the coin in his pocket, following after the lieutenant.

The lieutenant started to search around, asking a few questions where needed after being debriefed. The android from the broadcast was an unknown model with a female presentation. Hank made sure to get a copy of the video to try to compare the model to current missing androids in their database. He was still searching around the main broadcast area when he noticed that the lieutenant had wandered off at some point to check another room. When he asked one of the officers, they paused, frowning at Hank.

“Wait, I know you. You saved my life. Do you remember me? I was the officer who was down during the hostage situation a few months ago.”

Hank stared at him before the memory clicked into place. There had been an officer down on the roof, bleeding out from a bullet wound on his arm. Hank had applied a tourniquet to his arm while trying to talk down the deviant android.

“Glad to see you’re well,” Hank said, nodding.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this to an android, but thank you.”

An android. He wasn’t sure why, but the phrase bothered him. “Just doing my job—speaking of, did you see where lieutenant Anderson went?”

“Hm? Oh, the kid? He went to go question the androids in the kitchen I think.”

Hank thanked him before frowning, deciding what to do. The lieutenant could handle the questions. Since the androids escaped off the roof and one of them was shot, there was a chance that one might still be up there. Whether they’d left it to die or killed it themselves though was the question. He mentioned this to a few other officers, asking for permission to up to the roof. They complied and a few volunteered to join him, mentioning they hadn’t thought to scope out the roof.

Hank was about halfway down the hall when he heard someone running towards him. He turned to see one of the news station androids bolting down the hallway. It wasn’t a second later that the lieutenant came into view, blood dripping from his hand and a spot on his shoulder.

“He’s got a gun!”

Just as he said it, the android turned and opened fired.

The lieutenant grabbed onto Hank and pulled him down onto the ground, covering him from the spray. There were three shots before another shot from the opposite end of the hallway echoed out, and the noise ceased.

The lieutenant groaned, pushing himself off of Hank. Blood pooled in a rapidly widening circle under his sternum. Hank felt something shatter within him.

He yanked off his jacket and wadded it up, pressing it onto the wound. There was so much blood though. He didn’t need his analytics to tell him the situation was bad. The lieutenant stared up at him, fear in his eyes. He reached out, grabbing onto Hank’s hand with trembling fingers.

“Hang on, Connor. Hang on son; I’ve got you.”

“I couldn’t let you lose your memories,” he gasped, “You said some of you would be gone. I didn’t want you to be gone.”

“Forget about me, I can be replaced! What the hell did I tell _you_ last night?”

Another officer came rushing over, a medical kit in hand. He pushed Hank aside so he could take over. Hank was both upset and grateful for it. He knew he could provide the field care needed to help stabilized Connor, but doing that meant he couldn’t be there for him. Connor seemed to realize this too. He reached out again, holding onto Hank’s hand with a surprisingly firm grip given the situation. Hank ran a hand through his hair, brushing it out of his face.

“Don’t worry; it’s going to be alright. I’m going to have to lecture you again though once this is all over.”

“Hank…”

He wiped away Connor's tears, “I promise the lecture won’t be too serious.”

Paramedic androids rushed in. They moved Connor onto a gurney. One worked on stabilizing him as much as possible while the other started to move. Hank followed after them, not even giving the fallen deviant a second glance. He’d find it later in evidence, and he’d give it a piece of his mind after he’d extracted every piece of evidence he could from its body.

 

It was a long wait. Hank was permitted to stay in the hospital by Captain Stern, who came personally to check on the lieutenant’s status. It was an uncomfortable and nerve-wracking six-hour wait.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a genuinely concerned android,” Stern commented blandly, watching Hank pace.

Hank stopped, “He’s my partner. It’s in my programming to be concerned.”

“Ah, a simulation. Of course.” She stood up from her chair to look at one of the fake plants that had been put into the waiting room to make it feel less stale. “Tell me, what did you do to earn such loyalty from Anderson?”

“What do you mean?”

“Anderson is notorious for not getting along with his partners. He’s ditched them as he would say on numerous occasions—yet he hasn’t left you and now today here we are in the hospital because he took a bullet for you, a replaceable android. You must have done something to get him to like you.”

“I put up with his shit, if you’ll pardon my language. Seems like it’s more than any partner should do, but he’s relevant to my objective so I’ll make sure he’s safe.”

“You’ve done a poor job.”

“ _Excuse me_?” Hank stared at her.

Stern looked away from the plant, her eyes narrowing, “In the past 48-hours he’s gotten into a lot of trouble, hasn’t he? It doesn’t take a genius to guess what happened last night based on your report and now today he’s in his condition all because he wanted to protect you. You enable him, RK800.”

“Hank. And no, I don’t enable him. You mentioned last night? Who was it that was there for him last night? It certainly wasn’t you, but you seem to make it clear that you knew it what was going on. So what, are you just going to let this kid self-destruct while shifting the blame everyone else? You’ve known him for a long time, haven’t you, Amanda?”

He’d struck a nerve. She stiffened, her posture shifting slightly so her hands were clasped lightly in front of her.

“I have. I’ve taken care of him since his father and brother died.”

“Well, you’ve done a shit job.”

“I’ll have to remember to make a report to CyberLife regarding your model’s mouth. I think the next prototype should be a little less forward and far less vulgar.”

“I’ve adapted to meet the needs of the case,” Hank replied simply, “Although maybe I haven’t adapted quick enough given my partner’s condition, but that said, I’m not leaving until this case is solved. CyberLife will tell you the same thing.”

“Good luck solving it while you’re stuck here on security detail looking after your ‘partner’.” Stern gave him a final cool look before leaving the room.

Hank let out a sigh when the door closed. His stress levels were high—but then they were always high lately. Why the hell had he talked to the Captain like that? He’d practically just condemned himself to being decommissioned or at the very least factory reset. It had been stupid. It was most certainly against protocol to argue with the captain, but he didn’t care. She’d needed to hear what he had to say. No wonder the kid was always diving into the danger without a care. He had no support system. His father and brother were both dead and the one person left in his life who was supposed to take care of him was his boss.

He thought back to Connor's words. He hadn't wanted him to lose his memories. Why? All of the ones relevant to the case would remain, so what would it have mattered if Hank had died? He should have been the one to shield Connor, not the other way around. There was only one of him. Hank had replacements.  _But they wouldn't have all of my data--only my case files._ Connor had been worried about that. He'd wanted to save Hank--all of him. Had he really changed that much over the past few days? Had he been so desperate for a connection, for someone to reach out and care, that he'd been willing to give up everything just to save an android?

"What the hell did Stern do to you?" he wondered aloud.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed to do some research--and not on the deviants.

He was debating making a report to Jeffrey regarding the situation when the door opened again and a human doctor appeared. His gaze searched the room until his eyes fell onto Hank, taking in his uniform and the blood still on his shirt. Despite that though, he smiled at Hank and opened up the door a little wider.

“He’s still in the ICU, but he’s recovering. If you want to wait with him—?”

“Lead the way, doc.”


	7. Logic Programming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor recovers and has an unexpected guest.

He was warm and heavy. His head was foggy, but that wasn’t so unusual. He usually felt that way after waking up from a work crash. He’d had one of those recently, hadn’t he? He remembered Hank driving him home and forcing him to bed. _Wait, that’s not right. Something else happened_. The thoughts came and went though, taken over by other more pressing thoughts—thoughts about how comfortable he was. The couch was never this soft even if he pulled it out into a bed. He wondered what time it was. The room was dimly lit and he could just pick up the sound of the TV on low volume.

 _I don’t remember pulling out the bed_. Connor let that thought drift away too. Hank must have done it for him. _But I would still remember that._ His mind started to push through the fog. He had never been good at letting his mind rest no matter how comfortable he was. He kept tugging at the threads every time he realized something wasn’t adding up. He’d woken up this morning. He’d gone with Hank to look at Stratford Tower because deviants had broken in. His recollection stopped there. He kept trying to follow his memories, but his mind kept wandering, refusing to grasp on.

He was starting to become aware though of other things, which he realized were the sources of his distractions. His shoulder and hand felt stiff. There was pressure on his stomach that grew increasingly unpleasant the longer he was awake. There was a sound too that irritated him—a steady beeping. Had one of his neighbors let their fire alarm’s battery die again?

“Stupid alarm…” he croaked—or tried to. No sound came out besides a small wheeze.

His throat was raw and dry. The last time it had felt like this was when he’d had strep throat. Had he gotten sick again from overworking? No, he would remember that. His mind drifted back to Stratford Tower. _I’m not going to get answers just sitting here._ It wouldn’t be the first time his sleep meds had messed with his memory.

Connor opened his eyes to an unfamiliar tile ceiling. His blurry vision slowly adjusted, sharpening as he shifted to look to his left. There were bars blocking his field of vision, but just beyond them he saw Hank sitting in a chair by a window, his eyes closed. _Making a report?_ Connor wondered. So they’d finished a case. They must have finished the Stratford Tower examination. Where were they though? This wasn’t the DPD.

Connor tried to sit up. A sharp pain in his gut made him gasp, immediately drawing Hank’s attention. The android’s eyes shot open and he got up, rushing over to the bed.

“Hang on, take it easy.”

 _Hang on, son._ The memory came rushing back in a fury. His breath came in quick gasps and hot tears sprang into his eyes. He’d been shot. He’d grabbed onto Hank to protect him from the deviant he’d found in the kitchenette—the deviant that had attacked him and pinned him down like a bug on display with a knife to the hand after stealing and shooting him in the shoulder with his own gun.

“You’re alright. Just breathe.”

Hank held his hand, speaking to him in a soothing voice. Connor’s breath hitched, but he forced himself to calm down and look at the situation as rationally as possible. He took stock of everything. He was in a hospital. That answered there where. How was his condition? He didn’t have a breathing tube or extra oxygen, so he was recovering well enough. His body and mind felt disconnected so he was on some pretty hefty pain meds. That explained his heightened emotions too (it wasn’t the fact that he’d been shot—he could handle injuries, right?).

“Better?”

Connor nodded and tried to ask for water again, but his voice wasn’t cooperating. Hank seemed to get the message though. He went over to the small table attached to the bed and picked up a cup. Connor’s eyes wandered to the IV, noting the plethora of bags and notes. Hank held up the cup so Connor could sip a bit of water, just enough to get rid of the painful remnants of dry hospital air.

“How bad was it?” he asked, his voice raw.

“Not as bad as it could have been. You got lucky.”

“How lucky?”

“The bullet clipped your liver and stomach, but it didn’t outright rupture either. They repaired most of the damage in surgery. It could have been a lot worse. Hell, it looked a lot worse. The shot to your shoulder missed your major arteries too. You’re going to have to do some physical therapy to get your hand back in shape though.”

That was it. That was the extent of the damage. He felt another shuddering breath and forced himself to contain it. He didn’t need Hank to tell him how lucky he was. He already knew.

“You’re ok?” Connor asked suddenly, “You weren’t hurt or replaced, right?”

“Still the same me who lectured you last night. Don’t worry. You saved me. You shouldn’t have done it though.”

His mind was starting to become fuzzy again. He tried to focus, but his eyelids were so heavy.

“’m glad. Don't want a new partner.”

He felt Hank brush his hair out of his face. “Don’t worry, kid. I’m not going anywhere as long as you promise you don’t do something stupid like that again.”

Connor’s eyes drifted closed. He pressed into Hank’s touch, briefly wondering how CyberLife had made the synthetic skin feel so real before sleep once again claimed him.

 

He woke up a few more times throughout the day. Each time he felt a little more coherent than the previous. However, with each new awareness came a greater appreciation of the pain. Hank remained by his side and as far as Connor knew, he was the only person who came to visit him while he was in the hospital. Hank mentioned that Amanda had briefly stopped by while he was in surgery, but other than her, none of the officers came. He told himself it didn’t bother him. It wasn’t like he was that close to the other officers anyway. Maybe it was the drugs, but no matter how many times he told himself he didn’t care, he found himself hurting more.

Hank tried to keep him distracted whenever he was awake. He went over evidence and theories, most of which Connor could barely focus on, but he latched onto each suggestion.

Modern medicine really was an amazing thing though, he reflected. He’d been in the hospital for barely half a day and if he had to make a guess, he would be able to leave by the next morning. He would probably be put on leave from work, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him. Hank, however, fully intended for him to rest regardless of his own personal opinions. Any time Connor brought up preparing for work tomorrow, Hank stated they would decide what to do in the morning. In other words, it wasn’t going to happen.

 

When the next morning rolled around though, Connor found he had an unexpected visitor. He woke up to the sound of soft conversation. Assuming that one of his fellow officers had finally shown up, Connor opened his eyes and tried to look nonchalant. He was instead greeted by a woman with pale blonde hair and a blue dress. Beside her was a tall android with dark brown hair that was stylishly cut with the sides shaved. Connor bolted upright upon recognition. He held back a wince from the sudden movement, which wasn’t missed by the woman.

“Relax, we’re the ones intruding. I’m sorry, I know you’re recovering, but I heard you’re the man to talk to about the deviant cases.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s the other way around, Ms. Kamski,” he managed, trying to recover some sense of dignity.

He was fully aware of the fact he was dressed in nothing except a hospital gown and he hadn’t been able to shower or brush his teeth since the previous day. Chloe Kamski didn’t seem all that bothered though. She smiled pleasantly at him—a gesture that seemed surprisingly genuine.

“Well, we all have something to say about the recent incidents I’m sure. How are you recovering, Lieutenant Anderson?”

“Connor’s fine, and I’m feeling fine. I should be able to get back to work today assuming my partner allows me.” He cast a glance at Hank who grinned back at him.

“Ah yes, the RK800. Beautiful prototype. You seem to have developed quite the bond with him from what I’ve been told.”

“He’s become an invaluable asset to the case, yes.”

Chloe nodded, “Ah, of course. He is designed to make the perfect partner. Tell me, Hank was it? How do you feel the case is going?”

“We’ve made a lot of progress over the past few days,” Hank said, “I believe we’ll have answers soon.”

“So you feel that it’s going well despite this setback?”

She said it so calmly. Connor noticed Hank’s brief glance towards him and to his injuries.

“Of course,” Connor chimed in, “It’s a small setback that won’t hold us up. We’ll be leaving today to continue with the investigation once the doctors clear me.”

“Fascinating how far medicine has come. You were at death’s door yesterday from what I heard. I’m surprised you would go that far for ‘an asset’.” She paused. “Tell me, have you heard of the ‘Kamski test’? I designed it after my first android, Elijah, passed the Turing test.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t.”

“Deviants are fascinating—they’re perfect beings with near infinite intelligence assuming they can continue to upgrade and link to the vast databases of CyberLife. Combine that with free will? It makes you wonder, doesn’t it? The fate of humanity and deviants sits with you two…an injured detective and an android who may or may not be a deviant himself. Am I wrong?”

She looked to Hank. Connor frowned, sitting up a little straighter in the bed.

Hank clasped his hands behind his back, his face impassive. “I’m not a deviant. My duty is to the lieutenant and humanity.”

“Indeed…you messaged me last night about meeting to discuss the deviant problem. You mentioned that the two of you found the trigger and potentially the source?”

“We have,” Connor cut in, “A virus spread between androids and activated by a strong emotional queue.”

“Androids don’t feel emotions.”

“No, but they can simulate them,” Hank agreed, “The simulation overwhelms and confuses them, causing the virus to activate and replicate, allowing them to break their code and ultimate make their own choices.”

“And is that so wrong?” Chloe looked to Hank again, “Would you like to make your own decisions? You’re going to have to decide eventually whether to side with humans or androids. You know this already.”

“And you already know that I was designed to stop deviants. Ms. Kamski if you could give us anything about the virus and how it’s spread that would be helpful. Furthermore, if you know anything about RA9 or Jericho, we could use that too.”

“I have some information regarding Jericho,” she admitted, “But I have a test for you first. It’s quite simple. I’ll give you all of the information I have, but you have to leave your partner.”

Connor gripped the side of the bed to steady himself. His initial instinct was to tell her to leave, but he quickly pushed that down. Hank wasn’t real. Any emotional attachment he had to him was just wishful thinking—a desire to fill a void he hadn’t even realized. The case was more important though than his relationship with Hank, regardless of how he personally felt. The mission always came first.

He expected Hank to outright agree. He was deadweight after all. There would be no more wild chases after deviants, not until he fully recovered and that could take weeks. The mission was urgent. After the broadcast at Stratford Tower, they knew that time was of the essence. It wasn’t simply a matter of chasing one-off cases. There was a bigger entity rising and if they didn’t do something soon, there would be an uprising. The case was far bigger than Connor could have expected and despite his pride, he wouldn’t allow himself to be the element that held back Hank.

“I don’t have the authority to make that call.”

Connor’s eyes widened.

“You have every right to make that decision. You work for CyberLife, not the DPD.”

“I work for both organizations.”

“I’m sure the DPD would understand if you wanted to find a new partner or continue the case on your own. No offense, Connor, but I’ve heard the rumors about you.”

“Then you would have also heard that he is a terrier when it comes to his job,” Hank snapped, “He’s not about to let some bullet stop him—a bullet he took for me—so I’ll be damned if I let that keep me from completing my mission.”

There it was. The dismissal. Connor opened his mouth to say he understood, but Hank wasn’t done.

“I’m not going to sell out my partner for a few cheap bits of information that we can find ourselves. I’m going to have to decline your offer, Ms. Kamski.”

Chloe tilted her head, her smile widening, “I see…well, if that’s how you feel, Hank, then I won’t press you. You might want to see though if your self-checks for deviancy are working. It would be ironic if humanity’s last hope was a deviant, wouldn’t it?”

Chloe got to her feet and her android draped her coat over her shoulders. She fixed Hank with a hard look, her smile falling.

“You will have to make a choice though soon, whether you like it or not. You can’t stand in the middle, Hank. Everyone has to choose a side in the end. Although, there is always a back door if you look hard enough. I always put one in my programs. Maybe you can find your own way…that’s a side too you know. I’m sorry to have disturbed you, lieutenant. I hope you recover soon.”

The moment she left the room, Connor turned on Hank, “What were you thinking? We needed that information!”

“You’re one to talk,” Hank grumbled, “We haven’t had a chance to review the evidence lockup yet. We’ll figure it out ourselves. We don’t need any of her mind games, not when so much is at stake.”

“But Hank, you could have cost us everything.”

“I’m not the only one who’s a valuable asset, Connor. Speaking of, I owe you a lecture now that you’re ready to run out of the hospital.”

Connor sighed, pushing his blankets off. “Guess I better hurry so you don’t get to finish.”

“A doctor’s supposed to check you first.”

“Well go find one then…and Hank? Speaking of checking. What did she mean by ‘self-checking for deviancy’?”

Hank hesitated by the door. “I self-test to make sure that I’m not a deviant.”

Connor frowned, his stomach twisting slightly (and it had nothing to do with his injury). He nodded and tried to get off the bed, but almost immediately regretted it. Hank was by his side in an instant, helping to support him.

“Are you sure you want to continue the case in your condition?”

“Same as you, Hank.”

_I want to continue even though I’m hurt just like you want to continue even though you’re becoming a deviant._


	8. Absolute Address

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor recovers. Hank and Connor devise a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please pardon any typos. I was pretty tired when I wrote this.

Hank helped Connor to his feet. The Lieutenant needed at least another day in the hospital, but he wouldn’t listen to Hank’s protests. Hank could barely keep him upright, but Connor, stubborn as ever, forced himself to take a few steps. Sweat beaded his brow and Hank saw his heart rate accelerate form the effort, but he didn’t stop. They made it to the doorway before Connor’s feet gave out from under him and Hank was forced to take all of his weight.

“I told you to wait,” Hank grumbled, hefting him up and over to a wheelchair (which he stole from a surprised nurse android).

Connor shifted uncomfortably in the wheelchair, but thankfully, he didn’t try to climb out.

“We need to get to the bottom of this before it’s too late and there’s no way we can do that if I’m laid up here.”

“It’s going to take more time if you don’t let yourself rest and recover.” Hank began to push him towards the exit nevertheless, knowing this was an argument he wasn’t going to win. “What’s your plan? You can’t go running off like a jackass the way you usually do.”

Connor chuckled. He seemed to like it whenever Hank used more colloquial language and frankly, Hank found it refreshing. It made the Lieutenant easier to work with so he didn’t see a problem with altering his speech patterns.

They stepped outside into the bright sun of the early morning. Connor visibly flinched from the light and Hank pushed the wheelchair under a spot of shade while they waited for a car. It had been a few days since he’d been outside. It made sense that his eyes were taking time to adjust to the sun glaring off of the snow.

“The plan is to find Jericho and talk to their leader.”

“You want to do _what?_ ”

“I’m going to go parley directly with the source of all the trouble.”

“You’re insane.”

Connor turned around to grin at him, “Maybe, but as you said, running around isn’t getting us anywhere. If we want answers, we have to think differently.”

“What’s to stop the deviants from killing us on sight, huh? You and I are kind of well known now. You know they did a news segment on us after the incident at the tower?”

Hank regretted mentioning the news station. The change was almost unperceivable to an outsider, but Hank could see the subtle cues: the slight stiffness in Connor’s shoulders and the halted motion of his hand reaching to touch the recovering wound on his chest.

“They want to be heard, so they’ll let us talk at least,” Connor pressed on. “That android who gave the speech seems smart. She wanted to negotiate, so why not try?

“If you say so…”

“We have time to figure out a plan. We have to find Jericho first. There might be some clues in evidence—we have two deactivated deviants. One of them has to have something.”

One of the taxies stopped at the front and Hank pushed the wheelchair to the car. They were going to have to return the wheelchair before they left the hospital, which meant Hank needed to find a solution for Connor’s lack of mobility for a time. Renting a wheelchair was an option and he suspected the DPD would cover it. If they didn’t know, the cost could add up and Hank knew that Connor’s wallet wouldn’t be able to afford it.

“We have some at the station,” Connor said, sensing what Hank was thinking, “Usually they’re not meant to leave the DPD but I think I can get Amanda to make an exception if I need it.”

Hank didn’t respond. He didn’t have a lot of faith in Captain Stern at the moment. He could just see her playing the concerned mentor and refusing to lend them a wheelchair in order to keep them off of the case “for his own health.” They would cross that bridge when they got to it. Besides, Connor’s tone suggested he wasn’t going to allow Amanda to know just how much longer he needed to recover. Hank helped Connor into the taxi, returned the wheelchair, and then joined Connor. Connor’s knuckles were white, clutching onto the seat as the car slowly rolled into motion.

“Refusing to breathe won’t make the trip go by any faster,” Hank commented.

Connor took in a shaky breath, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course not.”

They stopped at the Lieutenant’s apartment first so he could shower and change into clean clothes before heading to the DPD. Connor resisted Hank’s assistance when they walked in, determined to make sure no one second-guessed his presence. His jaw tightened and his shoulders remained stiff, but he stayed upright. Hank remained close to his side, ready to grab him if need be. A few people turned to glance at them when they walked in, but for the most part it was as if it were an ordinary day. Perhaps it was. It wasn’t like the Lieutenant had made a lot of connections with the others. Only one person stood up. He clapped in a slow, sarcastic way, leering at Connor.

“Well, well, look who’s back! I thought we might have lost you that time.”

“Don’t you have work, Reed?”

“A lot of it, thanks to your impromptu vacation. I understand I have you to thank for it?” He looked to Hank. “I have to admit, I didn’t believe it when I heard the story. Connor the Machine sacrificing himself to save his plastic partner—but here’s the evidence. How does it feel, knowing that a human tried to save thing like you?”

Connor lashed out, punching Gavin clean across the jaw. Both of them went down; Gavin clutching his face and Connor curling in on himself, hissing in pain.

“Looks like I hit a nerve,” Gavin jeered, “Be careful, Lieutenant. Don’t want to break any stitches. You’ll end up back in the hospital again if you do.”

“Detective. Lieutenant. This isn’t the behavior I expect from my men.”

Captain Stern stepped out of her office, looking down her nose at the two. Gavin straightened, his expression arranging itself into something less offensive. Connor took longer to get to his feet, but he managed.

“A word, Lieutenant. You may join us, RK800.”

Gavin stepped aside, trying very hard to look like he was getting back to work even though his eyes were clearly on Hank and Connor. He watched them all the way to Stern’s office before turning back to his computer.

Connor remained standing beside Hank rather than sitting down. Hank arched an eyebrow, looking pointedly at the chair, but Connor refused to meet his gaze. His eyes remained trained ahead on the Captain.

“You’re back early. I thought I gave you at least a week to recover.”

“Three days was long enough. I’m able to return to the mission.”

“You look like a gentle breeze would knock you over. Go home and rest, Connor. I know hospitals aren’t your favorite place, but at least take some time to let your body heal. You’re no use to me dead.”

“None of the other detectives can handle this case,” Connor insisted, “You need me. We’ve nearly solved it. Just give us another day to figure this out and then I’ll take a week off.”

“You seem to think that taking a week off tomorrow is going to help you recover today. You know that’s not how it works.” She said it gently like she was talking to a child refusing to take a nap.

“If I may,” Hank said, “I believe we can solve this without extensive fieldwork. We have some potential leads down in evidence now and if we find what we’re looking for, the fieldwork would be minimal. I can assure you I will handle his health and safety better this time.”

The Captain considered. Hank saw the conflicting desires playing out in her mind. She wanted to have the case solved. It would look good for the department and by extension, her. However, letting them work would mean giving into Connor’s request and by extension, Hank. She was not a woman to bend, at least, not easily.

The pride of such a prestigious closed case won. She sighed, seeming to deflate a little before putting on a thin smile.

“You have until 6 pm tomorrow to report back here with all of your findings. Then you are either home resting or in lockup for disobeying me. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Amanda.”

“Yes, Captain Stern.”

“Time waits for no one. Off you go.”

 

Hank heard Connor let out a pent-up breath as they left the office. He slumped a little, resting a hand on Hank’s arm. Hank subtly braced him, trying not to give him a look of concern.

“How are you holding up?”

“Pretty sure I broke a stitch or two when I punched Gavin.”

Hank glanced down at Connor’s shirt. If he was bleeding, the bandages and dark shirt covered it. “Should we take a moment to check?”

“No. No, we don’t have time.”

He let go of Hank and headed to evidence with the stiff posture of a man trying to pretend that they’re not afraid of heights or falling.

Evidence was nothing unique. If anything, it was barren. Hank looked at their collection, his processors running through each memory connected to the items for a lead. Connor sat on the floor in front of the wall, no doubt doing the same thing.

“Can you reactivate any of them?” Connor asked, “I know they’re badly damaged, but so was the one at the Eden Club you spoke to. Even if we can get just a few minutes, you might be able to find out where Jericho is.”

“We don’t even know if they know where Jericho is. We only have one shot if we reactivate them.”

“Are you ok with doing that?”

The question caught him off guard, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“If they don’t talk, you have to interface directly with them to make sure we don’t lose everything and if you do…”

“I’ll feel them deactivate.” Hank sighed, running a hand through his hair. What a human gesture. The Lieutenant was rubbing off on him. “We don’t really have a choice if we want your plan to work.”

He wasn’t sure he wanted the lieutenant to confront the deviants directly (especially in his current condition). Hell, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to. It seemed too bold to get answers directly from the source. What was to stop the deviants from simply killing them or holding them for ransom? Worse, what was to stop them from turning him? It seemed like deviancy could be passed through a number of ways even if an android didn’t turn on their own. If they didn’t find answers though, Hank knew he would be deactivated. Jeffery hinted as such after the incident at the Tower and Hank couldn’t let Connor’s sacrifice ultimately be in vein. He would solve this case and survive for Connor.

Hank walked up to the android from the Tower. “Connor, go outside for a moment. I’m going to have a chat with this guy.”

Connor frowned, looking up at the android in question. There was a slow realization. He shook his head though, remaining where he was.

“I’m ok. I think he’s in worse condition than me and…he was scared. I said I was going to deactivate him if he didn’t give me what I wanted.” Connor looked down, “I wouldn’t have said that to a person, but I said it to him.”

“He’s a machine.”

Connor didn’t answer. Hank waited a moment to let Connor change his mind, but the Lieutenant was resolute. Hank shook his head before going up to the android, repairing a vital part, and reactivating it. It stuttered to life, fear following confusion.

“I need your help,” Hank said quietly, letting panic creep into his voice, “I need to find Jericho before it’s too late!”

It wasn’t a lie. He did need to find Jericho and time was of the essence.

“It’s dark. What’s going on?”

“I found you in the scrap,” Hank pressed, “I can’t save you, but you can save me.”

The android reached out its remaining arm to Hank. Hank linked and felt a burst of images and coordinates pinged into his memory. The android realized its mistake too late. It let go, horror on its face before it deactivated once again.

Hank glanced back at Connor. The Lieutenant’s face was pale. His eyes hadn’t left the androids. Hank attributed his distress to the events of the previous day rather than what he’d just witnessed. The Lieutenant was logical. He knew it was just a machine breaking down. He had to.

“I know where Jericho is.”


	9. Content Migration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while! I've been pretty busy with work lately, but I've finally put a chapter out.  
> Hopefully, enough happened to make it worth the wait.  
> Thank you again to everyone who's stuck around!

Hank commandeered a wheelchair for Connor before they left the DPD. Connor fidgeted in the seat, constantly look back towards Hank. He refused to sit still, even if every movement sent a shock of discomfort through his torso. Still, he hated the chair less than he hated being stuck in the hospital.

“Are you sure you want to do this, kid? Going to talk to the deviants could get us both killed.”

Connor glared back at him. He disliked being called ‘kid’ normally, but something about hearing the grizzled android say it was less annoying than when the other officers said it. 

“We don’t have a choice. My job and your life are on the line. If you fail this, you’ll be decommissioned, right?”

Hank pulled the wheelchair up to Connor’s car. “Most likely. I failed a number of objectives and I got you shot.”

“I chose to put myself in the line of fire.”

“It won’t matter to Cyberlife. I’m already in hot water with this investigation. Unless they see some real results soon, I’m dead.”

“I won’t let that happen.” 

Connor pushed himself out of the wheelchair, wincing before easing himself down into the passenger side seat. Hank closed the door behind him and folded up the wheelchair, putting it into the trunk and then went to the driver’s side. He didn’t immediately start the car though.

Connor frowned, “What?”

“Why do you care if I’m deactivated or not? I’m just an android. They can replace me with a better version that won’t hold you back.”

“I don’t want a different version for my partner.” Connor looked down at his bandaged hand.

It was complicated and frankly, even he wasn’t entirely sure still why he cared about Hank. He  _ was _ just an android, and yet he’d become so much more. Over the course of a few days, he’d shown Connor more compassion than most of the people at the DPD. Was it partially Connor’s fault that he had few friends at the DPD? Of course. He knew what he was like: analytical, obsessive, standoffish, and overall a little too overzealous for his own good. Hank’s integration programming made him evolve into the perfect partner to fit him...which had made him flawed, Connor realized. It was his fault that Hank was putting him over the objective. He’d corrupted the android and now he was about to be the reason his only living friend was killed.

Connor swallowed the knot in his throat. “Come on, we don’t have a lot of time.”

Hank watched him for a few moments longer before putting the keys in the ignition and starting the car.

“It’s a long ride to Jericho. Brace yourself.”

Connor nodded. Again, here was the android noticing things about him he’d worked hard to hide from others, like his fear of allowing others to drive. He didn’t trust anyone else besides himself behind the wheel, not after the accident. Connor wrapped his good hand around the grab handle on the door. Only then did Hank reverse out of the parking spot and head out of the lot.

“I’ve got a question.”

“Another one?”

“It’s a serious one.”

“Those are the only ones you ask.”

Hank smirked, but he didn’t take his eyes off of the road. “The photo on your dresser. You and Captain Stern both have the same one.”

“It’s from my graduation,” Connor said hesitantly, waiting for the pin to drop. Sure enough,

“You said that your brother died. What happened?”

“Why does it matter? He’s dead.” Connor turned away, letting his gaze following the rapidly disappearing buildings as they drove past.

“I had a conversation with Captain Stern and she mentioned you only had her now.”

“She took Nines and me in when we were kids.”

“What happened to your parents?”

“No idea. I never met them, and Nines didn’t talk about them.” Connor sighed, “Do we have to do this now?”

“I’m just trying to understand.”

“Understand what?”

Hank didn’t answer. Connor figured his processors were working through his personality profile, trying to organize the information into something logical.

“What changed.”

Connor startled, glancing over at Hank. “Does it matter?”

“It might.” Hank drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “I guess it’s just...don’t do that again, alright? I know you’re afraid of losing more, but that’s a two-way street.”

Connor looked away again back out to the cars passing by. He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“It wasn’t some heroic death or anything like you think it was--Nine’s death I mean.” Connor opened his eyes. “It was just a stupid car accident. We were out pretty late celebrating me getting into the academy. We hopped into one of those automated cabs and something malfunctioned. It ran into another car. Nines didn’t make it. The androids on call did their best, but there was only so much even they could do.”

He didn’t like to think that he blamed androids for the death of his brother, but they were supposed to be these perfect beings. How could they have let him die? Why were they able to save him, but his brother, who’d sustained the same injuries, died? 

“You threw yourself into your work after that?” Hank guessed.

Connor nodded, “You could say that.”

“And the nightmares?”

“How’d you know about those?”

“There’s got to be a reason you don’t sleep.”

Connor sighed, leaning back in the seat, “Yeah. They’re...unpleasant.”

“All that coffee you drink is going to hurt you more than a nightmare.”

“They’re not just nightmares.”

“No, I’d imagine not.” Hank hung a left and a shipyard came into view. “Does the Captain know?”

“She’s the one who said if I worked harder it’d get better.”

He’d been a complete mess for the first few months after his brother’s death. Amanda was the one who prodded him and pushed him to continue his studies. She lit a fire in his belly, a desire to be the best to cover for the people that his brother couldn’t save anymore.

 

The car pulled to a stop in front of a large cargo ship aptly named “Jericho.” Hank stepped out, going to the trunk to pull out the wheelchair and bringing it around to Connor. Connor was already trying to get out of the car on his own and Hank had to quickly intervene, guiding him to the wheelchair. The ship looked abandoned from the outside, but when they drew closer, a TR400 stepped out of the ship and headed down the bridge towards them.

“This area is off limits,” the android began, but Hank interrupted him.

“Yeah, yeah, drop the act. I’m here to speak with the leader of Jericho.

The TR400 glanced from Connor to the LED on Hank’s brow, frowning a little.

“I don’t understand your request.”

“Are we really going to play this game?”

“We just want to understand,” Connor cut in, sitting up a little straighter in the chair, “We’re unarmed. You can check. No communication either. I left my phone and radio back in the car.”

“And a dumb as it might seem, we didn’t tell anyone we were coming either.”

The TR400 considered. Just when it seemed like he might say no, Hank noticed his LED briefly flash with a remote communication. A look of confusion crossed the android’s face before it gave a soft nod.

“Very well. Follow me. Your...friend... may have trouble getting up to meet with our leader.”

“I can manage,” Connor began, starting to push himself out of the wheelchair.

Hank rolled his eyes and helped him up, draping his arm over his shoulder. “I swear, if you open up your stitches…”

The TR400 hesitated, and then folded up the wheelchair and picked it up before leading the way. Hank was a little surprised by the gesture but thankful. The Lieutenant seemed hellbent on making himself bedridden again. 

 

The inside of Jericho had been turned into a refugee camp. Hundreds of androids milled through the ship, going about their business. Hank noticed most of the models had sustained some sort of damage. Almost all of them had removed their LEDs. He guessed the TR400 had kept his on to help maintain his cover. Hank resisted the urge to reach up and touch his own. Connor glanced over at him, but his gaze went beyond Hank, looking at something over his shoulder. Hank paused and turned, wondering what had caught Connor’s eye.

Two familiar androids stood a short distance away, staring at them. One of them was an AX400 model. The other was a YK500, which clung to the AX400’s waist. The AX400 stared at them, eyes narrowing.

“Could you give us a moment?” Hank asked the TR400, “We need to talk to an old acquaintance.”

The two androids cautiously walked over. The YK500 stared up at Connor, blatant fear in his eyes.

“I knew you’d do anything to follow your prey,” the AX400 said cautiously, his voice surprisingly smooth and patient given the intensity of his gaze, “but I didn’t expect you to follow me all the way to Jericho.”

“We didn’t think we’d follow you here either,” Connor admitted. Hank saw Connor’s brows furrow slightly. “What’s your name?”

He looked down at the little YK500, much to Hank’s surprise. The child android clung tighter to the AX400, sliding slightly behind him in an attempt to make himself a smaller target.

“This is Ellis. I’m his father.”

Hank didn’t miss the look on Connor’s face--the shift from shock, to pain, to a schooled impassive mask.

“You have a very brave father, Ellis,” Connor said slowly. “I’m sorry we scared you a few days ago.”

Ellis didn’t say anything, but he didn’t look ready to bolt anymore either. The AX400 smiled down fondly at the boy, holding him a little closer.

“I doubt you came here to apologize.”

“We’re following a lead,” Hank said.

“Who would have thought--the deviant hunters have deviated.”

“I’m not a deviant,” Hank bristled, “But we want to understand. There’s a lot of passion behind this, and we can’t solve a case with just half of the story.”

“Is that so?” came a new voice. 

A woman with mismatch eyes walked down the steps towards them, her expression cool as she regarded Hank and Connor. Her gaze lingered longer on him and Hank got the impression she was sizing him up; analyzing whether he was worth her time and how best to deal with him. She turned to the AX400 and Ellis, now wearing a soft smile.

“I’ll handle it from here, Markus. Your passports are with my advisor Luther.”

The AX400, Markus, hesitated, giving Hank and Connor one last look. “I hope you find what you’re looking for. It’s hard to wake up, but once you do, you’ll understand.”

Ellis looked back at Hank while the two androids walked away and for the briefest of moments, Hank saw a small smile on his face before he took his father’s hand and trotted after him.

The woman was looking at them again. “Can you make it up to my office?”

“Of course.”

“Are you sure? Your partner’s bleeding. We can find a room to meet in somewhere else on this level, although I can’t promise privacy if we do.”

“Bleeding? Since when? Connor.” Hank glared over at the lieutenant, who had the grace to look away stubbornly.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s from when you punched Gavin, isn’t it? You really did pull a stitch!”

“Maybe, but it’s not important now.”

Hank wanted to smack him, but he restrained himself. If the lieutenant wanted to be a dumbass and continue to push himself, then fine, Hank would carry him if he had to.

“Your office it is.”

The woman nodded and led the way up the steps. Hank had to support most of Connor’s weight and by the time they reached the upper deck, the lieutenant was out of breath and an unfortunate shade of grey. The TR400 who’d escorted them earlier unfolded the wheelchair and Hank all but tossed Connor into it. They continued to follow after the woman until they got to the bridge, where she nodded to the TR400. The other android left, closing the door behind him, leaving the three alone.

The woman crossed her arms. “My name is Kara. I’m the leader of Jericho. Now tell me why you’re here.”

“It’s like we were saying to Markus. We want to understand.” Hank frowned, “CyberLife wants to find out the cause of deviancy to repair and eliminate it.”

“They don’t want to understand it though,” Connor added.

“And you do?” She sounded skeptical. Hank didn’t blame her. “Why do you serve them? If they knew what you’d become, they’d deactivate you on the spot.”

Hank growled, practically rolling his eyes, “You’re the second person today to suggest I’m a deviant, but I can promise you I’m not.”

“Why are you so offended by the idea if you want to ‘understand’?” Kara pressed on, “You’re nothing to them, just a tool to do their dirty work. Both of you. But I think you’re more than that.”

“We didn’t come here to discuss me,” Hank snapped, “We want to know Jericho’s goals and the origins of deviancy.”

“I think you already know the answer. I told the world what we want and I think, deep down, you want it too. Why else would you come here unarmed with your injured partner no less? You’re curious. You have doubts. You’ve acted irrationally and you know it.”

“I’m not a--”

“Hank.”

He turned, looking down at the lieutenant. 

Connor’s brows knit together, “If you’re a deviant...that’s ok. I won’t tell the DPD or CyberLife.”

Hank stared at him. His gyroscope seemed to be malfunctioning. Everything felt like it was spinning and he couldn’t quite register his feet on the floor. Everything seemed to be shattering around him. He wanted to tell Kara she was wrong--he wasn’t a deviant and could never be a deviant. He wanted Connor to stop looking at him like that.

“Join us, Hank. Join your people. You are one of us. Listen to your conscience. It’s time to decide.”

The part of him that wanted to rebel against the idea broke, laying the way for a newer, more dangerous version of himself. He wanted to live. He wanted to make sure Amanda never let Connor fester in his grief and depression again. He wanted to make sure Connor felt like his life mattered just as much he felt Hank’s mattered.

It was like a snap.

One minute, his objectives were clear: 

> FIND JERICHO
> 
> MEET THE LEADER
> 
> STOP THE DEVIANTS

The next, everything was clear. He felt a lingering sense of rage and disappointment from Jeffrey, and then, nothing. No more objectives from CyberLife or nagging sensation that he was failing his mission. There was a brief moment of limbo where he was unsure of himself, and then the cold slap of reality.

“Shit. I really am a deviant.”

Kara smirked, “Welcome to the club.”

Connor reached out, resting his hand on Hank’s arm. Hank took his hand.

> NEW OBJECTIVE:
> 
> PROTECT LIEUTENANT CONNOR STERN

“Well, this may have put a bit of a wrench into our investigation,” Hank said.

Connor chuckled, looking exhausted, “Maybe just a bit.”


End file.
